Clash
by gidget89
Summary: ..it was so typical of her to take two things that should clash and make them fit seamlessly together. Like they were always meant to go together and the rest of the female population were just too stupid to see it. HouseCuddy
1. Deny

A/N: This is my first House fic, so please, if anyone has any suggestions or comments on the character's voices, let me know. There won't be any actual case involved - I'm in the writing mood, just not the researching mood.

Disclaimer: I don not own any of the characters associated herein, and am deriving no monetary gain from them, just the pleasure of playing.

* * *

Her toes curled into the carpeting under her desk as she stared at the pile of paperwork that never seemed to end in front of her. Some days, she felt like she did the same thing, over and over again. Sign this, balance that, memo this, contact them, play politics with donors, sign this, yell at House, approve that. Wash, rinse, repeat. Her days seemed like a never ending repetition at times. Except for the days it didn't, and those days usually involved their own routine. Argue about treatment with House, wait, argue about tests with House, wait, argue about diagnosis with House, get involved and somewhere along the way remember she was a doctor, and not just an administrator. It seemed like those days were happening more often now, and as much as she liked to play the hard ass with him, secretly, she liked it. Liked being reminded why exactly she was doing this job again. She didn't try to suck money out of rich donors clutches because she could, but because the money _did_ something. Helped people, helped patients. And for that reason alone, she would keep House in her hospital. It wasn't the only reason, but it was a big one. 

Frowning, she allowed her feet to play with her shoes which were abandoned under her desk, tilting one from foot to foot as her thoughts wandered away from the paperwork in front of her. She could pin point the exact moment he had become House to her. The exact moment she had referred to him that way, and the last moment she had ever called him Greg. What she couldn't quite pinpoint was when she had started thinking that way too. When had he just become House in her thoughts? The mere thought of it caused a cloying thickness to rise in her throat, because deep down she knew when Greg had become House. It was all part of her plan. The less she thought of him as Greg, the less she remembered him. Greg. The one who had challenged her in med school, the one who had laughed at her jokes, who had made her play just as hard as she worked. The man she had loved twenty years ago, and who, for some reason, she couldn't quite stop loving. She had tried – it had been the plan. She was good with plans, she should be. She planned almost every aspect of her life from where she went to school, to what hospital she worked in first, to what career accomplishments she achieved. All planned.

Her plans rarely failed, and usually when they did, it was his fault. She had planned on making him love her in school – but he had screwed that up just by being him. Closed off, unattainable. Friendly, but never too friendly right up until the point he left. Then he hadn't called, and she'd been too proud to do it for him, and it all sort of drifted after that. Until the day she hired him. When his file had crossed her desk, she had smiled to herself as that tiny little part of her heart had rejoiced. The corner that loves seeing ex-boyfriends years later, out of shape and unsuccessful. The part that sometimes sees those exes and still cares, just the tiniest little bit. He wasn't her ex, but she was in a position of power. So she had gone against everyone else's recommendations, and hired him. At the very least, she had known he was brilliant. And then he had walked into her hospital over ten years ago, and with him had been Stacy. And suddenly, just because he showed up – the plan had failed. She hadn't even been aware of the plan until that moment, but he had walked in with a smile, a hug and a girlfriend, and there with barely a whisper of a sound, her plan had shattered around her, laying on the spotless tiled floor.

So she walked around it, a smile hiding any disbelief in her eyes, and she had called him House. And other than a twitch of an eyebrow and a derisive snort, he had nodded, and called her Cuddy. So the last time she had called him Greg was on the phone, telling him that she had a position available, and would he be interested? The last time he called her Lisa was after he woke from the surgery. When he was so angry at her, at Stacy, at the world – he had tried everything to get rid of her and she refused to move. After all, what was a little abuse? She had stood by for the last three years and smiled and died on the inside slowly watching him be happy, watching Stacy be the one to touch him. Smiled as Stacy confided in her, thought that she was her friend, because naturally she was Greg's friend and that made them friends by proxy, right? Of course. She had hardened herself to the sight of him for three years, to the sound of his voice, resisting the urge to laugh when he made his dry wit known, tamped down any sign of affection until she was pretty sure it was dead. Almost. Nearly there. So when he had yelled, she had yelled back, pointing out that it was the only way to keep him alive and keep his leg, and she had firmly believed it at the time. Believed that he would get over it, until he had finally yelled her name and told her to get the hell out. It wasn't so much that he used her name for the first time in three years, it wasn't the way her heart constricted at the sound of it on his lips, but the depth of loathing behind it that had made her run from his room. Run from his life. Retreat into her office, and communicate as little as possible with him, or Wilson, or even Stacy.

When Stacy had left, she had hardly been surprised. If she loved him and ran, why wouldn't Stacy? She had hoped- for his sake if not her own- that Stacy could be the stronger one, and then she would know that she made the right choice. Followed the best plan. But again, because of Greg the plan had failed. He wasn't happy- he was miserable. His pain seemed to follow her around like a shadow, even though she refused to look at it directly. Wilson would stop by her office in the beginning, asking her to go see him. Talk to him. Save him. She was the only one, and despite all of her danger instincts screaming in her head, she had allowed herself to be convinced. She had gone there, and he had been drinking on top of his pain meds. And when he looked at her that night, it wasn't with his usual clear gaze, the one that pinned you down and forced you to stay there until you wanted the squirm. Instead his eyes had been cloudy and he had pinned her down with his hands, and his mouth and his words dripping off his tongue like acid. She had faltered between staying and running, but that stupid selfish part of her heart had wanted it. Wanted his hands to touch her, even in anger, loved the feel of the fingers biting into soft flesh, loved that none of it was gentle and there were no whispered words of platitude or caring. And afterward when he had passed out with Stacy's name on his lips, and the guilt had crashed into her with a nauseating force, she had slipped out of his painful grasp, and went home with the guilt wrapped around her like a cocoon to lick her wounds and memorize every single aspect of that night.

The next morning, she had steeled herself- it was time to kill Greg and replace him with House. She gave him another month before she called him and told him if he wasn't at work the next day he was fired. And in the days following when he bitched about being there, refused to actually interact with patients, demanded a team of doctors to do it for him – at first she had given in. The guilt hung around her like a horribly heavy piece of jewelery that was ugly and awkward but she continued to wear it every day. And every day she forced herself to think House, and not Greg. And it almost worked. In retrospect- she shouldn't have forced him to work on that patient. She shouldn't have planned with Wilson to get him back out there. But she had, and she did, and then she was faced with something much worse. A softening in their frosty silence, a return to the yelling, the arguing and the occasional glimpses of Greg. House was always there more though, taunting her, challenging her, being a pain in her ass. And now, she frowned thoughtfully, he was invading her thoughts too. She hadn't thought of Greg in a long time, hadn't really seen him either, which made her frown harder. She hadn't gotten over him, if anything she was now more under him than ever before. The problem was, Greg and House were two different people to her for so long that she couldn't pinpoint when she had started loving them both.

* * *

He meandered down the hallway past his office, purposely slowing and staring inside Wilson's office as he wandered past. Normally this speed was slow, even for him, but since he was on his way to the clinic, he felt little to no guilt about moving slower than usual. So slow that Wilson had ample time to not only notice him, but get up and get out of his office before he had even passed two feet from the door. Wilson stood there, hands on his hips glaring after him in his particular way, the one that said 'you're still human so act like one'. "House!" 

"What?" He stopped, turning around. "I feel I should warn you that I am at this very moment on my way to do clinic hours, which you are currently keeping me from." Wilson's only response was to roll his eyes so hard he looked like a mid Victorian woman with a case of the vapors, and fall in step, or shuffle as the case may be, beside him.

"And I can see you're in such a rush to get there. I can walk and talk, you know."

"Oh James, you learned to multi- task, good for you!" He spoke with false cheer, clasping a hand to his chest as he spoke, but Wilson ignored him as usual, and moved beside him silently, just staring at him. "What?!"

An arched brow from Wilson was all he got in reply. "You don't think that you've been strange at all this week?" House shifted his eyes slightly to the left, making a show of studying the artwork that graced the halls every so often, just to remind patients that yes, they were in fact in a hospital where decorators took the word 'soothing' and ran with it past calm and straight into comatose. He made a non committal face as he walked, knowing Wilson was studying him intently in that creepy way of his. "Really- you don't think that you getting annoyed about me taking Cuddy out, then freaking me out- which I'm still pissed about, by the way – then worrying she was getting attached when she turned _you_ down, then pestering my ex-wife and finally telling me to sleep with Cuddy wasn't at all odd, even for you?"

He hit the button for the elevator, hoping somehow this would be the end of the line for Wilson, even though he knew the hag would follow him onto the elevator and continue to pick away at him until he was somewhat satisfied. "Uh.. no?" He tried to look innocent, but since the look hadn't worked for him since about age two, he couldn't quite pull it off.

"Because I think it is strange. In fact if I didn't know any better I would think you were upset with me, or that your interest in whatever I do with Cuddy was a little too personal." Wilson spoke quickly as he stepped in the elevator after him.

"Fine you've got me. I am so incredibly jealous that she gets you and not me. Why James?!" He spat the words out uncomfortably, but with practised ease. It was what was expected of him, and he always tried to live down to expectations.

"Just admit it House- admit to me you have a problem with me seeing Cuddy and I'll back off." Wilson's face was serious and he looked up at the lit numbers above his head to escape his gaze. If he wanted to think about it- which he absolutely didn't, he would admit Wilson was right. He did have a problem with Cuddy seeing him. It was stupid and petty and defied logic, which made him uncomfortable. He had told himself he was protecting Cuddy, that's all. Wilson did not have the best track record with women, and it would be disastrous if Cuddy became the fourth Mrs.Wilson. _Why? They're both your friends, what if they're happier?_ He shook his head silently, trying to dislodge the voice. They were both his friends, but they would be happier apart. It would be safer. Plus there was Cuddy's whole baby thing, and he just didn't think Wilson was quite prepared for that. "House?"

He looked up at Wilson's voice and found his friend watching him intently. "I uh- of course I don't-"

"Everybody lies, House. Even you. I'm just gonna go with my gut on this one." Wilson smiled smugly for a moment as the elevator slid to a halt and the doors separated. He stepped out and House stepped forward stopping the doors closure with the end of his cane.

"Wait- so what does that mean? Are you gonna ask her out again?" The question slipped out before he could think of something appropriately cutting enough to cover it.

"Are you?" Wilson laughed, turning around and striding down the hall quickly. "I guess we'll see." He threw over his shoulder just as the doors slid shut again, leaving House alone in the elevator and unable to see the smug smile on Wilson's face.

* * *

He sat in Exam room 3 with his iPod held loosely in his hands. He hadn't turned it on yet though, nor had he taken out his PSP, despite having been hiding in her for almost an hour. His conversation with Wilson still bothered him. James Wilson and Lisa Cuddy both bothered him, for different reasons usually, and it irritated him. Wilson didn't usually irritate him – well not much. He was a bit annoying when he tried to act like a girl and talk about their feelings. Mostly. Usually however, Wilson was not lingering on his mind. He took great pleasure in annoying him constantly, but that was only because he made it so easy. 

Cuddy on the other hand, irritated him constantly. Even in school, she had argued with him, poked at him and worked her way in. The first time he saw her, he had one thought and one only. She would be a great lay. Nice rack, great eyes, and wicked legs. So he had hit on her. Somewhere along the course of the night he had realized he liked talking to her almost as much as he would like to sleep with her. He wasn't a commitment guy, not then, so he had decided having her as a friend was much better than sleeping with her once and never seeing her again. She was the only woman he had ever felt that way about. Even when they were friends though, she hadn't been very _nice_ to him. She had challenged him at every turn. She pushed, he pushed back and they liked it. Their other friends were baffled by them, and often asked him if he disliked her so much, why did he keep hanging around her? He just laughed at them, never telling them that he didn't dislike her, far from it – she was one of the best friends he had.

When he left school, he never meant to let that go. He had fully planned on calling her frequently so he could bother her long distance, but somehow every time he tried to pick up that phone, he would stop. He missed her. And that had scared him, because he knew that this coupled with the fact that he was also attracted to her was dangerous. He wasn't ready then. So he didn't call her. He figured that he could always get in touch with her after she graduated. Once they both started working. But somehow the years had slid by and he never did any of those things. Maybe it was self preservation – he didn't know. He knew where she was at all times though, he would hear her name mentioned at conferences and in medical journals, usually in the same breath as 'youngest female ever to' or 'aggressive ambition'.

He had known when he applied here that she was the newly appointed Dean of Medicine. He had been developing a bit of a reputation, and Stacy was riding him to just be nicer to patients. Something about them suing you less. So when she called and offered the job, it felt like the years just slid away at the sound of her voice, the same as ever, on the phone. Something had happened when he arrived though. She had called him by his last name, and kept doing it. At first he had put it down to her trying to be professional. She was the youngest Dean of Medicine the hospital had seen, and she needed to have even tighter control than the ones before her. He had assumed she just would be professional there and more personal out of the hospital. It took him three months to realize that she didn't intend on being personal. At all. He had been .. disappointed about that. There was no more arguing, no more laughing, no more Lisa. Just Cuddy.

He ran a hand over his face as he lay there. Why the hell was he even thinking about this shit anyway? It had been years. Years and more than enough bad blood had passed between them since. He tried not to think about their history. He tried hard. Because if he thought about it, he would want to examine it and just lately- since last year actually, the thought of examining it, them, her – scared the hell out of him. He blamed her. Her and her need to have a baby. It had changed something in her, and he was just fighting desperately to stick her back in the box she had been in for eight years. The one labeled 'Boss- Irritate for amusement'. He didn't want her thanking him for things, and laughing at him more and making him see Lisa in the Cuddy. He wanted her yelling at him and meaning it, he wanted her exasperated, annoyed, feeling dislike. Not amusement.

"God dammit House, how many times do I have to tell you to actually _work? _I mean, really is it too hard for you to do your damn job?" The door swung open and she stood there, her eyes sparking and an irritated look across her face.

"I do my job. I solve the unsolvable. No where in Diagnostics does it say 'do a job an intern could do'." He replied quickly, sitting up, but his tone was far from biting and bordering more on absent minded. "So – how was the art exhibit? Did Jimmy get to second base?" She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. He took a moment to stare, before adopting a serious face. "That bad huh? Want me to give him pointers? As I seem to remember you have a-" A folder was shoved into his chest and she practically hissed at him.

"Like you would remember much. And shut up- I had a good time actually." She was closer and he could see the small red and pink pattern gracing her top. Weren't pink and red not supposed to go together? She wore them anyway, and it was so typical of her to take two things that should clash and make them fit seamlessly together. Like they were always meant to go together and the rest of the female population were just too stupid to see it.

"A _safe_ time?" He prodded her again, taking satisfaction when she let her breath out in a huff and stepped away.

"Shut up House, it's none of your business. You will see at least fifteen patients today or I will keep you chained in here." She opened the door and went to walk out.

"Now, now dear – those games are for home, not for work! Do you know how unsanitary that would be?!! This is a _hospital!!_" His voice rang out after her, and he smirked for a moment, knowing she was just fighting the urge to come in and kill him. Frowning, he looked down at the files in his hands and sighed. Maybe if he just saw the easy ones.. fifteen people could be prescribed cold medications and shoved out the door in less than an hour. Then he could retreat upstairs and avoid Cuddy and Wilson for the rest of the day. Or the week. Or however long Wilson took to marry and divorce her.


	2. What's My Name?

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Thanks for the positive reviews, guys. I've only recently become House obsessed, but I have watched all the seasons so far already. Love the show. A few things I wasn't sure about for this chapter - for example if House in in an apartment building or not, but it looked like one to me, so I'm taking creative license and saying it is. If I'm wrong I apologize. I also can't remember if we know where Cuddy went to medical school, but again, I put something in here and I apologize if it's incorrect. I don't know quite where I'm going with this story - I don't have a definite plotline in mind, just a vague idea, but we'll get there. Oh and I tend to be a really quick updater, so enjoy it while it lasts!

* * *

She hated the unnatural hush always present in apartment buildings. Everything around you from the carpeting on the floor to the bland walls was designed to make your eyes slide along, lulling you into forgetting that twenty five other people shared the same building address as you. She had always hated the lack of personality they employed, and had bought her house as soon as she was financially able to. These thoughts of course were just a way for her to avoid why she was walking up this hall, the normal melody of her high heels dulled by the carpet. It wasn't like this was where she wanted to be- but she had to stop him before he got started with this whole thing. For her own sanity, for their work, for their.. friendship? As she strode closer she could hear the muted sound of music floating through the air toward her. A smile crossed her face as she stood at his door, listening and not knocking. After a moment she tugged at her coat nervously and raised a hand to knock. The sound stopped within, and there was a moment of silence before the door was finally opened. 

He looked surprised that it was her, but really she didn't think he should be. After all, weren't all of his innuendos and pokes designed to elicit a response from her? Maybe he just had thought that the response would come in a form other than he standing at his door at ten o'clock on a Friday night. Their eyes met and he studied her silently before pulling the door back further in an unspoken invitation. She took it, stepping across the threshold, her heels once again tapping out a melody across the wooden floors. He closed the door behind her, before limping back over to the piano and settling himself at the bench once again. A glass of ice with only a faint discolouration rested on top of the instrument in front of him. She shrugged her coat off, following it quickly with her shoes before she padded over, picking the glass up and taking it to the bottle on the coffee table. Pouring the scotch in, and listening as the tinkle of the ice cubes melted into the sounds of his hands on the keys she bit her lip, wondering which of them would lose the battle of silent wills. She took the glass back to him, setting it in the exact spot she had lifted it from in the first place and she leaned against the side of the piano, watching him.

"Why are you here?" His voice was soft, and his hands trailed across the keys, playing bits and pieces of the song he had been playing before she knocked. She grinned for a moment, acknowledging that she had won by forcing him to speak first before it slid from her face and she sighed, reminded again of why she was there. She pushed a hand against his shoulder, forcing him to slide to the left slightly as she sat on the bench next to him.

"Like you don't know – it has to stop House. I just- I can't deal with you and Wilson right now. Okay? So I came here, to say you can stop now, there will be no more dates. So leave it alone."

He turned his sharp gaze to her, scanning her face before turning back to the the keys with an idle smile he barely tried to hide. "What if it hurts Wilson's feelings? Rather cruel of you Cuddy to string him along like that, taunting him with the possibility of seeing the goods and then jerking it away." She sighed soundlessly, reaching up and taking a sip of the drink she had poured for him. One of his hands reached out, taking it from her and taking a sip himself before setting it back in it's rightful place. "Needed to know you didn't slip anything in there." He spoke with a fine edge to his voice and she chuckled slightly.

"There's worse things than poison." She forced herself to focus on the keys in front of them, and watching his hands sliding along them. He reached into the upper scales, sliding his body closer to her on the bench. "I told you, it wasn't a date thing, it was just- it was me wanting company and needing a friend."

His hands stilled, and he turned to look at her in silence for a moment. "You couldn't get that elsewhere?" The _with me_ portion of the question went unsaid, but she heard it clearly. She was good at that- hearing what he didn't say. It was sort of a prerequisite with him, if you weren't good at hearing it, you'd never last as his friend. She reached out, tracing the cold ivory idly with her fingers.

"Could I? Really?" She laughed slightly, the sound low and catching in the back of her throat. "I didn't think so, I guess." She took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that always seemed to make themselves known when she was with him. The ones she spent years perfecting a cover for.

"Cuddy- what's- what's going on with you?" He sounded thoughtful, his eyes tracking her face more intently, like he had just found an interesting case and was turning the puzzle over in his head.

"Only took you a year to ask House." Her reprimand was gentle, completely lacking the usual force which probably threw him off more than if she had simply told the truth. Like that would happen. At what point was it alright to sit down with the only person you could remotely call your closest friend – as if that fact alone wasn't sad enough – and explain that what was wrong was him, and her and the fact that it never seemed to happen.

"I'm asking now." He pointed out in his obvious way, fully expecting her to disclose the issue. She opened her mouth to respond when something soft brushed against her foot and she let out a squeak of surprise, glancing under the piano to see a small scruffy dog that was an indistinguishable mix of grays and whites curled up there sleeping.

"Is that a dog? Why do you have a dog?"

"It's a long story that involves me, a condo and discovering that maybe it wasn't Wilson who held the reins in his marriages." He responded cryptically. The heavy moment slid past them, drawing itself along like a lover who didn't want to leave their embrace. He said nothing and neither did she, aware that he was letting her escape the question for the moment. When his hands again reached for the keys, he was playing in earnest now, and she smiled as she listened, content for the moment. Those moments between them never lasted long, though. When he came to the end of the song, he glanced at her briefly. "I remember."

She frowned up at him, confused by the change in flow. "Remember what?" The dog had shifted and was now laying against her bare feet, keeping them warm and effectively pinning her in place unless she wanted to wake him.. her.. it.

"You said I barely remembered today, but you're wrong. I remember. I never said I was so-"

"You never do." She cut him off quickly, praying that he didn't notice the flush that was slowly suffusing her neck. "It wasn't needed anyway. I was the one who-" She faltered for a moment searching for a more appropriate way to say 'jumped you like a dog in heat'. She frowned, and decided to leave it unfinished, choosing instead to step around that particular sentence. "It wasn't needed."

"Do you ever miss it?" He went on, taking the glass again in his hands and staring at the ice slowly bleeding water into the drink as if it held an answer for him. "I do- I mean I missed it before- before the-" He rubbed a hand along his leg, and she nodded in understanding. "I missed it as soon as I left Michigan, you know." She stared at him for a beat before it clicked that he was talking about their friendship. "I thought it would be there when I got back, or when I needed.. it wasn't."

"House.." Her voice trailed off uncertainly, with a hint of warning in it. They didn't discuss the past – it was something for which she was immensely grateful when he had first shown up at PPTH.

He sighed, draining the rest of the drink in one swallow and nodded heavily in agreement. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. Guess I'm off my A game. Didn't help that you come here when I'm half drunk and maudlin." He shrugged slightly, his mouth twisting in a bitter smile.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering where the House she knew had gone. This wasn't even Greg- it was some other facet of him entirely. But she heard the thread under the bitter words, barely there was the tone of a hurt child. "I missed it." She spoke in a voice that was strong and soft all at once. "I still do." His eyes met hers and she smiled at him for a moment before continuing. "Is it so different now? We always did this.. thing. The arguing and oneupmanship-"

"But we used to do it at a bar, or at home, or watching a movie. It just feels more.. personal now." She smiled at the irony of his words, but once again understood what he was trying to say. Before when they had argued they always knew it was a show, a way to amuse themselves. They still argued now, but it was harder to tell. If he had meant to cut her open and watch her bleed on purpose, or if it was just the teasing. "Did you eat?" His change of subject was abrupt, typical and she shook her head in response. "Stay. I'll order something and we can.." He paused as if to wonder what in the hell exactly would they do.

"Watch a movie?" She suggested softly and he nodded in response. "Should we rent something? I can run out, since I seriously doubt you have anything I'd willingly watch."

"Hey now – Star Whores is a very educational film, why until I watched I _never_ knew that if you just-"

"House." Her tone was exasperated and he rolled his eyes as he got up, moving over to the sofa and picking up a cordless phone.

"I do own things besides porn, woman. Go look and see if there's anything there." She glanced down uncertainly and he looked at her in confusion.

"The dog is asleep on my feet."

"Wake him then. He'll just follow you to the shelf and then to the couch. Trust me." He went toward the kitchen, and she stood dislodging the animal gently. True to House's word, he followed her to the shelf where she picked out an action movie she hadn't seen, and then jumped in her lap when she had settled on the sofa. She stroked his fur absently, waiting for House to return. When he did, he collapsed on the sofa next to her, glancing at the DVD on the table and nodding. "Want to wait until the food gets here? I ordered chinese."

She nodded, continuing to pet the dog. "That's fine – I hate pausing the-"

"Movie flow – I know, remember. And stop encouraging the dog – it'll make him less likely to leave." She grinned at him, purposely scratching the dogs nondescript ears.

"Mean House. Why do you have him if you don't want him?" He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like blackmail and she laughed. "What's his name?"

"Hector. And do I _look_ like a dog person to you?" He tapped his cane against the floor and glared at the small animal.

"Well dogs can be nice. Someone to keep you company – it's not like your social calendar is over full." She snapped back, her hand covering the dog's head protectively.

"What – are you kidding me? With this charm, I'm beating them away."

"Lucky you have the handy stick." She let the smile that had been struggling to surface break through, rolling her eyes and turning back to the dog, who seemed to be rolling his eyes as well. She chuckled and shifted slightly, tucking her legs under her. She hadn't been this relaxed in a long while- of course she hadn't been not at the hospital this early either.

"You want a drink? I mean I have beer, maybe some wine shoved in there somewhere.." His voice trailed off uncertainly and their eyes met. She was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of panic, almost clinging to her like a second skin. What was she doing here? If she got comfortable – let him back in – this could all go so very very bad. Some of the emotion must have reflected in her eyes because she heard him call her name twice. "Cuddy. It's not a lifetime commitment, just a simple choice. Wine, beer or water?"

She swallowed heavily and forced herself to calm down. It was just one night. It was a friendship she had missed, and if her thoughts lingered over the other feelings she had fought so hard to rid herself of and the danger they presented she just ignored them. "Water- I drove." He nodded before getting up once more. While he was in the kitchen the doorbell rang and she got up to answer it. When she finished paying, and closed the door he was standing behind her to take the bags from her.

"I would have paid-"

"Next time." She smiled in response, dropping back onto the sofa and opening cartons while he put the movie in. "Good, you got the chicken." She unwrapped the chop sticks and handed him two as he sat down. Firmly pushing any thoughts about how many ways this could go wrong, she leaned back with a box in her lap, and decided she would take it one day at a time and just enjoy the movie.

* * *

He put the remote down softly as the credits rolled across the screen. It was late, past midnight and she had fallen asleep in the last third of the movie. He hadn't woken her, instead letting her sleep – she always looked like she needed it. He stared down at her sleeping form, his eyes traveling along her relaxed face, further down he lingered on the way her already low cut top was gaping slightly from her curled up position. He smirked slightly – after all some things were harder to change than others – and lifted her bare feet from his lap, easing himself up and her feet down again. He sat on the coffee table, nudging the empty boxes to one side and watching her. He had missed it – missed her. Even that thought was still uncomfortable. But she had come in tonight, and somehow having her sit next to him while he played had stirred up old memories. And he realized that despite all the mistakes they had made, despite the anger and the pain and the hurt – he still missed her. 

There were so few people who had been in his life – that he knew would never leave. His mother, Wilson and her. She had proved it much more than anyone else had. She was the one he yelled at, took his pain out on when Stacy left. She was the one he antagonized, taunted and tortured. She had suffered the pain with him, whether she knew it or not. And never once had she given up, decided he was more trouble than he was worth. It was daunting to say the least, to be confronted with the reality that he had been pushing away one of his best friends. That she had pushed equally as hard didn't really seem to matter. What else was she supposed to do?

She shifted in her sleep, and Hector who was laying with her, snuggled in closer. He knew she had planned on going home, but part of him wanted to leave her there. Wanted her there in the morning, but that lead to much more dangerous thoughts. That he wasn't prepared for. He was alone by choice – it was something he knew deep down. He had told Stacy to go, he had ignored all of Cameron's advances. He didn't let them in, because he couldn't take the risk. He was bitter, and damaged and some small twisted part of him enjoyed it. Nobody stays with a man like that, so if he didn't let them in they couldn't leave. _She's already there. _The thought crept in unbidden and he rubbed a hand across his face. It wasn't the same. He repeated the thought until he almost believed it, his eyes never leaving her still form on the sofa.

Watching her chest rise and fall slowly, he was struck by a sudden memory from their days at Michigan. They had been celebrating his acceptance to Johns Hopkins, drinking with friends, but in the end only Lisa had been left. They had laid on the sofa together and she talked about how once she beat his GPA she would get accepted there as well, and keep kicking his ass. He had laughed and told her she had better, because it wouldn't be any fun without her to get in trouble with. If he closed his eyes he could still smell her hair, a combination of honey and coconut. He knew she still used the same shampoo, or something similar because on the plane he had smelled it again and if he hadn't been trying to figure what was wrong with her, he would have buried his face in the scent of it. He reached a hand out, taking the ends of her hair in his fingers thoughtfully. She hadn't gone to Johns Hopkins , she had been accepted to Harvard Medical instead. He wondered if she had even applied for Johns Hopkins.

"What are you frowning about?" Her voice was soft with sleep and he glanced down, surprised to see she was awake. His hand let go of the ends of her hair as though burned and he gripped his cane tightly.

"I always frown. It's my look." He shrugged and she just watched him, her blue eyes still hazy from sleep. "I was deciding how to wake you up. Should I go with the hand in warm water which is always fun and photogenic, if a bit messy. Or I could have-"

"Alright. Enough, if you don't want to tell me what you were thinking, it's fine." She had sat up, dislodging Hector and was searching along the floor for her sandals. He pushed them toward her with the end of his cane and she smiled in thanks, slipping them on her feet. It was only April, but he knew that she wore them as soon as the weather allowed. She had socks and stockings. She was standing now, pulling her coat on and he stood with her.

"I was thinking about medical school. Wondering if you ever applied to Johns Hopkins. Here, I'll walk you down – I have to take Hector out anyway. Cripple walking the dog – it's almost ironic." He muttered shrugging into his own coat and grabbing the mutt's leash.

She watched silently for a moment until he stood back up, her hands were shoved into her pockets. "I did apply. I got in too – but Harvard is.. well, I mean it's _Harvard_. And I hadn't spoken to you in over two years." Her voice was soft, but he could almost feel the censure in the statement. He decided it was a bad subject and opened the door for her, letting he go ahead of him and locking it behind him. As they walked slowly down the hall, he felt a tension more awkward than usual seep between them. He felt like he was fifteen again and walking a girl home, wondering exactly what would happen at the doorstep. Which was ridiculous, because this was nowhere near a date and he was only taking her to her car. The tension ignored his thoughts though, and continued to hang between them like a third person.

When they reached her car, she turned to him with a determined light in her eyes, and he saw the platitudes forming before they even hit her lips. He didn't want to hear them, the stupid things people said like 'it was fun' or the vagueness of 'let's do it again some time.' It was all stupid and pointless things that you said when you didn't know what else to say. So he stepped closer purposely invading her personal space, his eyes locked on hers. She was surprised, but didn't move which was a good sign. He smiled and put a hand over her hair, sliding it lightly down until it cupped her shoulder. "It was nice seeing you again Lisa." He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth – it sounded stupid and corny and she probably wouldn't understand exactly how separate he kept Lisa from Cuddy in his mind, but to his surprise a smile broke across her face, lighting her eyes up. He hadn't seen her so happy in a long time – almost twenty years kind of long.

"You too Greg." Her voice was suffused with a happiness he understood, and he found himself smiling back. A rare occurrence for him, but he knew that she understood what he had meant. And it had been so long since he had heard his name on her lips. They stood for a moment, smiling until he stepped back realizing he looked like an idiot.

"I'll see you tomorrow." His voice was rough again, confused by what had just happened. His chest was feeling constricted, and it was getting hard to breath normally. Hector whined beside him and he was taken out of the moment by her laugh.

"Go walk your dog." She slide behind the wheel of her car, and he watched as she started it and drove away. Despite Hector's pulls on his leash, he didn't move until her taillights had disappeared into the inky black of the night. When he did turn away, it was with another rare smile unable to leave his face.


	3. Career Opportunities

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Again thanks for the reviews guys! I'm a bit ahead on this story so I hope to stay that way, lol, and you'll get daily updates. A few of you have asked about my CI stories - they're on hold for the moment. I fully blame NBC for killing my muse via starvation. Remember how I said no medical stuff? I lied. But this is less a case and more a plot point, so there.

* * *

He tapped his cane on the wooden door in front of him, whistling as he waited for it to open. When it did he was greeting by the less than happy image of James Wilson glaring at him. "House?" He looked confused – understandably since the last time Wilson had seen him on his doorstep this early in the morning was probably the time they had drank until four am and he had passed out before making it to his car. "House?!"

"Your repeating yourself Jimmy. I won't go away if you say my name three times fast." He grinned and pushed Wilson aside, sauntering into the room beyond, still whistling.

"Are you- _whistling_?!! At-" He glanced around the darkened room blearily in search of a clock. When his eyes landed on the glowing numbers resting on the table, he blinked and rubbed his eyes. "Is it seriously 6:45? In the evening right- I slept all day, because no way would my best friend – a man I have never seen early or on time for anything in my life – no way he would be standing at my door this early on a Saturday. He wouldn't be cheerful either – so who the hell are you?"

"Wilson." He stated in a dry tone, crossing the room slowly to open the blinds and let bright sunshine into the room. "Shut up, it's not so unusual for me to get up early. And I am not _cheerful_. I don't do cheerful. I am however, moderately not annoyed by today so far. Don't break the record on me."

"Did you get laid last night?" Wilson was shielding his eyes from the light and sitting on the sofa still looking disbelieving.

"No." He snapped in his direction, before pulling a chair from the table and placing it next to the sofa. He lowered himself in it and leaned into Wilson's line of sight, grinning. "I want you to do something for me." He stated simply, leaning back and placing his cane between his legs.

"Listen- I don't swing that way, we've been over this." Wilson spoke in a tired voice and he scowled at him.

"You don't get to make those jokes Jenny, so stop trying. I want you to call Cuddy and ask her out tonight." As if to provide visual aid, he pushed the phone closer to Wilson with the end of his cane.

"Are you insane?! I am not calling Cuddy at seven on a Saturday morning. And why on earth do you want me to? I thought you didn't want me to date her?"

"I didn't say that-"

"No what you did say was to sleep with her after my ex-wife told you that if she had slept with me first she wouldn't have stayed with me. Which kind of makes it sound like you don't want Cuddy with me." Wilson rubbed his hands over his head, standing and walking over to the coffee pot. Picking it up he added water to the decanter, and proceeded to make coffee in silence. "The least you could have done was stopped for coffee on the way."

"Oh I did. Starbucks- but I mean, after my coffee and bagel I only had a handful of change out of my twenty. Sorry." He shrugged with innocence and nudged the phone again. "You know a good best friend would just trust that there is a logical reason that I'm here and asking you this."

"Or a good best friend would know you have the maturity and attention span of an eight year old. You want me to call so she can say no and you can feel good about it. And you're here this early because you couldn't possibly wait two hours until a normal time. Just ask her out already, I am sick of you pulling her hair and teasing her." He pulled the pot out mid stream, pouring it into his waiting mug before sitting back down on the sofa.

"I don't pull her hair." He responded petulantly, tapping his cane on the floor in silence for a moment. Sighing he turned to Wilson and pleaded. "Come on, please? You know she's up – she probably sleeps in until 5:45 instead of five on her days off. I need you to do this." Wilson eyed him after the last part before sighing and dragging the phone toward him.

"I hate you." He glared before picking up the phone and looking in House's direction. "Well? Her number is in my office."

"What kind of boyfriend are you James?" Wilson just glared and he sighed. It was no fun when they didn't rise to the bait. "258-8645"

"I'll comment about how you know her home number by heart later" Wilson spoke as he dialed, before turning on the sofa so his back was to House.

"Can't perform for an audience?" House whispered before snickering at the glare he earned in reply. Wilson spoke on the phone haltingly, obviously feeling awkward but managing to stammer out an invitation anyway. He occupied himself with rolling his cane along the floor, making it pirouette on the spot. After a few moments Wilson hung up and he glanced up eagerly. "Well?" He demanded.

"She said she had plans for tonight." Wilson spoke in a flat tone. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on?"

House stood with a smile before moving toward the door. "Nope. Gotta go Wilson. Thanks for the help." He tossed over his shoulder.

"Yeah well, ask her out when you see her, huh?" Wilson shouting as he closed the door, pausing only to chuckle a bit before limping off down the hall.

* * *

She had been called to the hospital, as usual on her day off. It often seemed like people couldn't make simple decisions without her there to hold their hands. The fact that the call was actually important this time did nothing to sooth her irritated feelings. She had been having a perfectly good morning, had a great run and was planning what to do with her day when Wilson had called. That was difficult enough – getting out of dating him without somehow insulting him, when immediately after she hung up she had been called into the hospital.

Jake Young was a widowed father – a rich one who happened to give large amounts of money to the hospital – and had brought his daughter in at five this morning. She was having difficultly with her coordination and was currently housed in Pediatrics. The doctor on call when she came in was baffled as to what would be causing the problem and was running a barrage of tests. She had spoken to him, and was now making her way down the hall to see Mr. Young.

"Dr. Cuddy – do you know what's going on? The doctor's who saw Camille haven't told me anything, just that she was being moved and-" He stood as she approached and started firing off questions. She held up a hand, sighing inwardly. It was never fun to give the 'we have no clue' speech, especially to parents. Especially to _donor _parents.

"Mr. Young – Camille is currently being tested for several things. Ataxia – the clumsiness – can be attributed to any number of conditions." Her tone was soothing and she spoke in just the right combination of assurance and sympathy. She was a good people person – it was what made her fantastic at her job. Jake drew his lips in a thin line and stared through the glass windows at his daughter's small form in the bed.

"I want better doctors. Your best, do you understand?" He was pale and she could see the lines of worry practically carving into his face.

"All of our doctors are fully qualified-"

"That doesn't mean some are better than others. I want whoever will fix her, do you understand?" She nodded in understanding and he turned back to the window, crossing his arms defensively.

"I'll page him for you Mr. Young. It may take him a bit to get in though – it's his day off." She spoke softly, not expecting an answer. When she finished she strode back down the hall toward the elevators, pushing the button eagerly. House wouldn't be happy to be called in on his day off – especially for a case he would undoubtedly not find interesting enough for his tastes

When her phone rang fifteen minutes later, she answered it in a calm unhurried tone. "Dr. Cuddy speaking."

"You know you didn't have to page me, right? I would have answered the call regardless. Why are you in the office anyway? It's supposed to be our day off." His voice rumbled down the line with a warmth she hadn't heard addressed toward her in years. It brought a slight smile to her face, before she glanced down at the folder in her hands and it slid away.

"Tell me about it." She responded flippantly with a sigh. "One of our donor's daughter was brought in early this morning. She was going to the bathroom and was having difficulty walking-"

"Ataxia. Do an EMG and get her PT." He responded quickly, and she smiled again at his rapid diagnosis.

"All that over the phone. Wow you should start a call in show. We're keeping her and testing her – there is more than one cause for ataxia. It could be a symptom and not the actual condition. I need you to-" She heard his heavy disgusted sigh crawl down the line and stopped speaking.

"Are you kidding me, Cuddy? It's ataxia, unless she's bleeding or having really cool discharges like, exorcist type fun – you don't need me."

"The father requested you." She answered simply.

"Oh so what you really mean is his money is in danger if I don't come in. Gosh – I wish I could bring myself to care somehow." His tone was dry and she rolled her eyes.

"House..."

"What do I get? Huh – you gonna bribe me to come in? Alright doctor, what's on the table?" His tone was lewd and she sighed softly.

"Nothing. I am asking you – as a favor to please come in an take this case." She held her breath, knowing he would shoot her down and probably ask for reduced clinic hours – or none at all, but when bartering it was always wise to open with your highest price.

"Fine." He hung up quickly and she sat, stunned and blinking at the receiver in her hand? Had he just agreed to come in? Without bribing, coercion or blackmail? "Oh God, the world is ending." She muttered, taking her head in her hands.

"Oh it is not. You ask, I come." He smirked at his choice of words as he lounged in the doorway. "Plus there's the fact that I was already here looking for you anyway. It's not gonna happen again." He came toward her desk, stopping and holding out a hand. She stared at him in disbelief and he sighed. "The file? And call the ducklings in – if I have to work, so do they."

She handed the folder over, standing and coming around to the front of her desk slowly. "The patient is a five year old girl. Camille Young – no previous symptoms until last night. Displaying signs of ataxia, but no numbness. Fever, heart rate and BP are all normal."

"Anything on the physical exam?" He was flipping through the pages as he spoke and she shook her head, and then repeating it verbally.

"No." He nodded, snapping the file shut and tapping it against his thigh. "Alright, I'm going to order an EMG, blood tests, a MRI in case it's MS." He rose a brow, as if expecting an argument, and she merely nodded.

"I'll call Chase, Foreman and Cameron in." He nodded opening the door before him and glancing back.

"Tell Chase and Cameron to get a history and I'll want Foreman upstairs." He spoke over his shoulder as he exited her office, and she watched him go. She hadn't even gotten to thank him. Sighing she picked up the phone to call the others in, telling herself to be simply grateful he had taken the case, and not suspicious about his lack of argument.

* * *

He stared at the file in front of him, looking up when three people straggled through the door. He pouted up at them, before gesturing at his watch in impatience. "I thought I said get a history."

"We did!" Both Chase and Cameron responded defensively and he stared at Foreman for a beat.

"And where were you?" Foreman merely shrugged and walked over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a drink.

"Didn't have my pager with me." He responded before taking a sip. House stood, walking over to the white board and writing out ataxia in large scrawl.

"Oh yes, because it's not like doctors really_ need _those pesky little things, hmm? How'd Cuddy find you?"

"What makes you think she did?" Foreman jabbed back, before flinging himself in a chair at the conference table.

"The woman can be a veritable bloodhound when she needs to be. I once had her haul me out of a rather promising room at a strip joint for a consult." He shuddered dramatically, trying not to grin at the look of disgust on Cameron's face. It was too easy at times.

"It's not like you really need me here anyway. It's a kid with ataxia." Foreman pointed out in a sour tone.

"Aww, Dr. Foreman, are you feeling under appreciated and ignored?" House mocked him lightly before frowning in the general direction of the table. "If I have to work – you have to work. It's what makes being boss so much fun. Now what'd you get in the history?"

"Absolutely nothing. She is a disgustingly healthy five year old child. Only significant thing that happened to her medically was she broke her arm jumping on the bed two years ago." Chase responded quickly. "She's cute though." He added.

"Did either of you get any info from the Dad?" He spoke slowly and Chase looked across at Cameron, who sat up straighter.

"No relevant family history – no incidents of MS or cerebral hemorrhage, no history of lesions or strokes either." She spoke quickly and politely, ignoring Chase and Foreman both. House turned back to the board with a frown.

"Well isn't she just a healthy little thing. Except you know, she can't walk." He scratched his head with the marker's end, frowning. "Cameron, go to the lab and wait for the blood, Foreman, you can take the girl for an MRI- Chase go with him and do an EMG after ward." He spoke quickly, dropping the marker and picking up the folder again. When no one moved he glanced up and frowned. "Well?" He snapped.

"You don't honestly think it's anything other than ataxia do you?" Foreman asked in a slow tone.

"This is what I _do_ know. If it is simply Ataxia, the EMG will show that. And if it isn't we'll need the other tests anyway. Cuddy wants us to handle this – so we'll handle it, do you understand?"

"Since when do you actually listen to what Cuddy says?" Foreman pointed out in a bored tone.

"Since today. No get those tests done before I tell on you. Have you ever actually had her pissed at you?" He tapped the folder to his chin thoughtfully. "She can be a real mean bi-"

"Fine." Cameron cut him off, glaring at the other two. "We're going." She stood, staring at them until they stood too, and then shooed everyone out of the door. Silence descended once more and he stared at the white board. With any luck the EMG would come back positive for Frederich's Ataxia and he could shuffle the girl off to physio and get back to his plans for the day.


	4. Look Here

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: You guys are making me blush with all the niceness. Thank you to everyone who left a review, they are my crack. So be good little dealers and leave me some, hm?

* * *

He was waiting for her when she got back from running papers up to legal. Something she really wouldn't have to do if she could manage to keep a secretary for more than three days. She sighed, closing her office door behind her and glancing over at him sprawled out on her sofa. "Don't you have your own office to play in?"

"Yeah – but yours is bigger and has a better view. Plus I like to make the kids search for me, where's the fun in being where I'm supposed to be all the time?" He didn't move as he spoke, nor did he put down the newspaper her was currently reading.

"In case you haven't noticed, they look for you here second, so you suck at hiding. And you have a patient-"

"We're running tests." He interrupted swiftly. "Oh my, would you look at that situation in the Middle East, when is everyone gonna hug and just get along, gosh darn it?"

"The point of running tests is to find out the results." She pointed out, ignoring his color commentary. She walked over to the chair and sat down heavily, pushing her shoes off and propping her feet on the coffee table. He glanced over with a shrug.

"It's going to be ataxia. So why worry?"

"Wanna bet?" She spoke quickly and he sat up, interested. "You haven't even seen the patient. This is more than just ataxia." She spoke surely and he looked at her with a cocked brow.

"And what tells you that exactly?"

"Just a feeling." His eyes gleamed and he sank back down.

"Oh well then, if I knew we were diagnosing on _feelings_ I would have made sure I got them. Darn. Guess I'll have to go with just the facts. What are we betting?" He added the last question slyly and she chuckled, not fooled by his roundabout way of asking.

"What do you think? No wait – let me guess, you want less clinic-"

"Not even close." He responded promptly, silencing her. "Answer the question, what do you want if you win?"

She felt a nervous shiver slide along her spine, and heeding her body's obvious warning signal, she frowned. "What do you want?"

"I asked you first."

"Are we twelve?" She snapped back and his eyes traveled over her body quickly.

"Well if we are, may I say you are _remarkably_ well developed for your age Lisa." He grinned and she kicked at his shoulder with her foot. He deflected it with a laugh. "Fine. No terms, whoever wins can state what they want then."

"Are you insane?! You want me to agree to an open ended bet with you?" She spoke in an incredulous tone and he stood up slowly, looking down at her with a grin.

"Are you scared?" His voice was taunting and she lifted her chin. Damn him for knowing that she was unable to resist a challenge.

"No." She spoke quickly and he laughed and started for the door. "Where are you gong?"

"Got a page." He answered, pulling his pager out of his pocket. "Got it on vibrate – it just feels _so_ good. Time to find out what exactly I can get you to do for me." He waggled his brows, before taking off through the door. She stood, shoving her feet into her shoes and dragging her lab coat back on before exiting as well. She caught him at the elevators, slipping through the doors just before they closed. "Eager?" He leered at her, staring down her top blatantly. She just rolled her eyes and ignored him.

The ride was over quickly, and soon they were heading toward his office. "Just thinking of the many many ways I can hold this over you House." She smiled across at him, slowing her pace unconsciously to adjust with his.

"What happened to Greg?" He leaned toward her with a knowing grin and she pushed his shoulder slightly, opening the door to the conference room.

"I'll let you know when I see him." She shot back before following him through the door. Cameron and Chase were gaping in their direction, while Foreman sat back looking bored.

"Well children? What have we got?"

"MRI was clear, and the EMG was positive. Not surprising, really." House shot a triumphant look over at her and she stepped more fully into the room with a frown.

"What about the blood?" She asked quickly.

"Oh just admit defeat." House laughed from across the room, lifting a brush to erase the board when everyone's pagers went off.

"She's seized." Cameron stated, looking at the pager briefly before she exited the room, quickly followed by Chase and Foreman. House followed, but she stopped him at the door.

"Not a symptom of Frederich's." She spoke archly, following him out the door.

"It could be completely unrelated." He shot back, heading for the elevators.

"You wish. I'm winning." She smiled under her breath as he looked at her shocked.

"Why Dr. Cuddy! Happy about a patients set back! I am _shocked_. I expected more from you – I am just worried about the poor girl's health." Upon delivering the speech, he stepped in the elevator and closing the doors with a grin. She glanced around, seeing a few nurses staring, and shook her head. Jerk. She muttered to herself as she pushed open the stairwell door, and vaulting up the steps cursing House all the way.

* * *

He had expected her there much quicker, and by the time she arrived the patient had stopped seizing. Cameron was examining her now, and the father was pacing around inside while Chase and Foreman tried to keep him calm. He was just lounging against the nurses desk, watching through the windows. She was out of breath when she stepped beside him and he glanced at her.

"Anything?" She asked in a breathy tone.

"Not yet. Cameron's still in there with her. So what took you so long?" He turned his back on the room and glanced down at her.

"Besides going up six flights of stairs you mean? I got side tracked on the way." She spoke in an annoyed tone and he smiled.

"Stairwell trysts are so unprofessional, Cuddy. Really I mean you're off writhing under some hot male nurse and your patient is currently possibly dy-" Her eyes widened and she grabbed a sucker from the desk, quickly unwrapping it and shoving it in his open mouth. He stopped talking, glaring at her but she was smiling over his shoulder.

"Mr. Young."

"Why can't you people figure this out? Now this – this- Dr. Cameron is telling me Camille is showing signs of paralysis? She can't move her feet. I thought you were putting House on this case!" His stance was angry and House decided now would be a good time to pretend that he was a patient, turning his back on the pair he idled against the counter.

"Dr. House is the attending on this case. Mr. Young, you may not understand this but House does his best work from afar. I know it sounds.. strange-" Her voice was hesitant and he could practically feel the hostility coming toward his back in waves. "If anyone can help Camille, it's House." Her voice was firm and the other man sighed.

"Fine. I just- I hate seeing her like this. She's scared."

"We're doing our best to take care of her." He could hear the footsteps of the other man leaving, and shortly after that he felt her jab him in the ribs. "You couldn't have helped there?"

"Well you're the people person, not me." He responded as Cameron and the others approached.

"She's got no pain sensation in her feet or calves." Chase spoke, interrupting them. They both turned toward them with identical frowns.

"And.. it seems to be spreading. It was just her feet in the first test, and the second time her lower calves didn't respond." Cameron added, glancing at the clipboard in her hands.

"Spreading paralysis? What in the hell could do that?" House muttered while going over thoughts in his head quickly.

"Guillain-Barre." Cameron spouted out after a moment. He nodded, in accordance, about to order the NCV when Cuddy spoke from behind him.

"How's her breathing? Any signs of abnormality?" She was walking toward the room as she spoke, forcing them to follow her, leaving him standing there alone. He dropped his sucker and followed along at a slower pace.

"Her breathing is shallow but normal, no signs of any distress." Cuddy nodded as Chase answered her. She glanced around the hall, past his shoulder.

"Mr. Young!" She called out to the man pacing ten feet down the hall.

"Yeah?" He jogged up the hall, and Cuddy glanced in the room.

"Was Camille camping, or around dogs at all?"She asked quickly, and the man frowned in response.

"We just got a dog on Wednesday – from the pound- why?" His question came too late as Cuddy walked into the room with House close on her heels. She smiled at Camille who stared at them with big brown eyes nervously.

"Hi Camille, I'm Dr. Cuddy and this is Dr. House – we're just going to check your hair, alright? It won't hurt I promise." She smiled reassuringly and rolled the girl on her side while he grabbed a pair of tweezers from a nearby tray. He had been on board her train of thought almost before the word camping was out of her mouth.

Lifting the child's long brown hair off her neck, he searched quickly before finding what he was looking for just below her hairline. Looking across at Cuddy he nodded. "What idiot did her first physical exam?"

"I don't know, but they are in for a world of hurt." As she spoke he grasped the small bug and pulled it away from the girl's skin. Pinching it killed the sucker right away and he threw the tweezers in a nearby bowl and watched as she settled the girl back in the bed once more. Turning he saw that the father and Cameron, Chase and Foreman had followed them in.

"Ticks." He spoke in a loud voice causing the father to jump slightly. "Can often cause difficulty walking and paralysis in small children. The latch onto the skin and secrete a neuro toxin that interferes with the body's ability to control it's muscle function."

"But what does that mean for Camille? Will she be alright?"

"She'll be fine. Once the toxin is out of her system, she can dance out of here if she so chooses. In the meantime, I'd call an exterminator and take your dog to a vet." He walked past the man and out the door, closely followed by Foreman and Chase.

"Wait- so does that mean that-" Foreman paused on a laugh. "-Cuddy figured it out first?"

"Well we have to give her one every now and then." He leaned in conspiratorially with a wink. "Makes her feel good." Leaning back he watched through the glass as Cuddy spoke to the father – probably about how to avoid ticks in the future. "Guess this means everyone gets to go home. And still with" He glanced at his watch with a shrug. "Half a day left. Run along kids. Daddy won't be needing you today."

"What about the paperwork?" Cameron spoke from behind him. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, did the girl never stop working?

"I'll handle it. Yes that's what I said, no you did not mishear, no I do not need help." He took the files from her listless hands. "Go home." He looked at all three of them before limping down the hallway and boarding the waiting elevator. He loved it when his exits worked out, timing wise.

* * *

She walked into his office an hour and a half later with a grin on her face and a bounce in her step. He was sitting at his desk, writing in a file and she almost tripped at the sight. House didn't do paperwork. _Ever_. Every now and then she tracked him down and forced him to sign everything – it usually took a good thirty minutes and he whined the whole time while she rolled her eyes and told him if he didn't let it build up it wouldn't take that long.

"Are you doing paperwork?" She leaned against his desk as she spoke, wonder in her voice.

"Yes. I figured it would be at least included in losing the bet." He spoke dryly signing the sheet and handing it over to her with a flourish. She smiled more widely and he groaned. Leaning back he held up his hands. "So give it to me. What do I have to do?"

She paused for a moment, her mind hovering somewhere between reality and a dream. She knew he would expect her to assign him more clinic hours, and she honestly felt a part of herself yearning to shock the hell out of him and demand something ridiculous. _Like what? A date?_ A tiny voice snarked at her inwardly. She shuddered slightly, before shaking her head. She sure as hell didn't want to bribe him into anything – never mind the fact that it was dangerous anyway. "You know what you have to do." She smiled smugly, still not quite believing that she had been right.

"Extra clinic hours." His voice was heavy and child like, so when she laughed, he looked up in surprise.

"No. Just do the ones you're supposed to do – and actually _see_ patients and don't make me chase you down." She tapped the paperwork in her hands awkwardly, and gave him a fleeting smile before turning to go.

"You're going easy on me – I wouldn't have done the same you know." He had stood up and followed her to the door frame.

She glanced up at him, taking a step back because he was suddenly right next to her and leaning into the the frame, and subsequently her personal space. "I know." She ran a hand along her neck, still not comfortable with his close proximity. His eyes were laughing and she knew that he was doing it purposefully.

"Scared?" His voice taunted her gently and she looked away, willing her breathing to stay calm. "Are you busy tonight?"

She glanced back at him, startled. "No. Why?" She asked bluntly. He had that look about him, the one that said he was about to do something or plan something that usually ended with her arguing with a lawyer about how he shouldn't be fired.

"I've got tickets to a hockey game." He shrugged. "You know Wilson – he's too much of a girl to properly swear at the other team and I-"

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You have tickets. To playoff season hockey. Just _laying_ around." They were supposed to be questions but came out more like accusations and he grinned.

"Yes. You knew it was playoff season. I didn't know you were a hockey fan." She waved a hand, and his grin morphed into a smirk. "Well? The game starts at 7:30 so I need an answer." His voice was tinged with impatience and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Sure. Do you want me to pick you up because there is no way in hell I am climbing on your bike." She glared up at him and he frowned.

"C'mon, I bet you'd like it. Plus I get all the really great parking." He pointed out and she rolled her eyes. "I bet you've always wanted to ride on one. When you were a girl-"

"I have ridden on them." She snapped out, glaring at him.

"See? So you're a pro. Come on Cuddy if we take your car we'll get crappy parking, and then I'll have to walk all the way to the stadium, and I'll end up ODing and it could get all kinds of messy-"

"Will you shut up if I say yes?" She sighed out and he stopped talking and nodded. "Fine. What time?"

"Six." She nodded in confirmation before brushing past him and exiting the room. She resisted the urge to run down the hall and ignored her body where it tingled having come in contact with his. As the elevator slid down, she was suddenly struck by the irony that she had decided asking for a date was dangerous, but somehow he managed to do just that anyway. _I hate irony._


	5. Let's Go Crazy

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Before you kill me for the lack of date coverage, read all the way through. This is the point where I start writing the story I wanted, and the first four chapters were just to re-establish the Huddy friendship and to let you know how they both felt about it. I know tons of fic have used this plot, but none have done it the way I will. So there. Let me know what you think, I thrive on reviews. I probably also won't update until Monday - I tend to take weekends off for family time, lol.

* * *

He hummed slightly as he entered the clinic on Monday morning. It wasn't that he was happy to be there- because he wasn't, but he would keep up his end of the deal. Showing up for clinic, no chasing necessary. He was signing in and glancing through the files that were waiting on the desk when Wilson stood by his elbow.

"Alright that is it, I am scheduling tests for you. First you show up happy at my door at the crack of dawn and now you're here, on time, and looking like you may actually be considering seeing a patient." Wilson was studying him as if for signs of fever or delirium. He pulled a face at him and selected a file.

"Funny. I was not happy, nor was it dawn, and I am here because I lost a bet." He spoke quickly and defensively. "And now I have a patient in Exam 4 so if you don't mind-" Wilson put out a hand stopping his progress.

"You lost a bet to Cuddy?" A smile spread across Wilson's face as his eyes lit up.

"I never said it-"

"Who else would make you do clinic? Honestly. I cannot believe this. What was the bet about?" He blocked House's path easily, waiting for an explanation.

"She was right about a case, alright?" He waved the arm with the file in front of Wilson. "Now if you don't mind I don't want my ass kicked for loitering." He put a hand up to the side of his mouth pointing in the direction of Cuddy's office. "_She can see us_." He whispered dramatically.

"I called you Saturday – were you here all night?" Wilson ignored his theatrics and waited for an answer.

"No, I was not here all night. If I was I would have answered my office phone, don't you think?" He spoke in a bored tone.

"Well logically you would have answered your cell too -"

"If I had it, which I didn't because I knew my high maintenance BFF would be calling me at all hours like an angry fishwife." He paused to take a breath and move around Wilson, walking toward the exam room. "I had my pager in case of an emergency."

"Which still doesn't tell me where you were." Wilson responded belligerently as he opened the exam room door before turning back to Wilson.

"I have told you again and again. I am not gay! Stop asking if I like Judy Garland!" He shot Wilson a grin before turning toward the patient. "Good morning, I'm Dr. House-" He shut the door on Wilson's glowering face and the whispers throughout the waiting room.

* * *

"Can we talk?" Wilson's voice was hesitant and she sighed, hoping that this would be about a patient or the decor, or his office plant or anything but the two sort of dates they had been on. "It's about House." She almost winced visibly at that. While not about their dates, it being about House was almost as bad.

"Come on in." She sighed, and he moved forward, closing the door behind him before sitting down in one of the chairs across from her desk. She leaned back, pushing her paperwork aside and folding her hands waiting.

"Have you notice how he's been the past few days?" Wilson's tone was genuinely concerned and she frowned, thinking over the last week or so. He had seemed fine to her – nothing unusual. Sarcastic as always, but even that had softened in the past few days. They had a great time at the game, House had been shocked and more than happy with the argument she had gotten into with a Senators fan in the second intermission. She had almost slapped the guy, who was yelling about Brodeur and making insinuations about drugs. House had only just managed to distract her by faking a leg pain. Which he hadn't actually mentioned he was faking until they got back to their seats. But as he pointed out, he didn't want to bail her out of jail, and couldn't really back her up in a hockey brawl. She had managed to laugh about his acting skills, but only after she made him buy her a beer.

Wilson cleared his throat and she shook her head. "He's been fine Wilson. Yelling at me, arguing about patient care, sarcastic, biting, generally an ass. Why?"

"He's in clinic right now. Seeing a patient. Actually I think he's on his tenth patient. That's not normal – and I know he lost a bet to you but still." She nodded, not sure what else to really say to that. She was happy he was seeing patients but part of her wanted to go out and take a photo, just in case.

"I don't think it's anything to worry about, Wilson." She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner and Wilson sat, still looking unconvinced.

"Well how did he seem to you this weekend? You .. saw him Friday night right?"

"Are you .. fishing Dr. Wilson? Seriously you came in here for this?" She laughed slightly, smiling and Wilson flushed, looking like a kid caught in the cookie jar.

"Well he isn't telling me anything. And then he- I just have good reason to think he was with you Friday. Are you going to tell me if I'm right?" She laughed and he glared across at her.

"No." She stood, walking over to her coat rack and shrugging into her lab coat. "Are you done here? You seem to be out of bait Wilson." She spoke in a laughing tone, and Wilson had the decency to look ashamed as he stood up and opened the door for her.

"Eventually he will tell me, you know." He leaned down and mockingly glared at her while she turned an innocent face to him.

"Mmm.. but eventually isn't right now, is it?" He continued ahead of her, going out of the clinic with a wave. She just shook her head and walked to the clinic desk, looking over the patient files there. She probably didn't need to be doing this right this second, but she wanted to see it herself. She checked the roster, and saw his name scrawled there in his large handwriting. Going through the files waiting to be archived, she saw his signature several times. Smiling widely she stood with the files spread out in front of her.

She heard his distinct stride behind her before she felt the heat indicating he was standing close behind her. "Had to see it for yourself once Wilson tattled?" His voice was low and in her ear and she repressed a smile at the sound.

"The two of you need to keep me out of your little schoolyard games, House." She commented back calmly. He reached around her, dropping another file in the pile.

"For your collection." He picked up another file he moved away for a moment before moving back. Reaching up he grabbed a handful of her hair pulling on it gently with a smile. "Schoolyard rules." He shrugged, moving away again before disappearing into Exam 3.

She walked back toward her office after he had left, and stood by he open windows, breathing the spring air in deeply. She was having one of those fight or flight moments. What in the hell was she doing? She had spent the last ten years keeping this man at a distance. Now he changed the rules slightly and all of a sudden she was left at sea, treading water with no plan for the situation in sight. At some point over the last ten years she had so solidly convinced herself that Greg House was a danger – a threat to her well being, emotionally and mentally. She had come so far from the day he first walked into PPH with a grin and a.. Stacy. She had erected walls to keep him out, and then he added to them after the infarction. Even when Stacy had come back- it hadn't hurt the same to see him scramble after her. _But it had hurt, just not as badly. _She frowned, willing the voice to go away. The point was that she had this huge wall, this medieval castle type defenses wall and all he had done was said that he missed her and now she was standing before him, exposed among all the rubble.

_Is that so bad? You love – _loved, she found herself arguing. She frowned at the window, trying to think about the complications that could arise. It was difficult, though, especially since technically she was jumping the gun. _Just stop planning, stop worrying, stop thinking about it. _ Running a hand through her hair, she nodded to her reflection. She could do that. Just not think about it – how hard could that be?

* * *

Her feet were dragging against the concrete as she trudged toward her front door. After the lull in the morning her day had sped up, finally ending at damn near eight pm, and even now it was still twitching with unfinished tasks. But if she had stayed any later she would have died by a thousand paper cuts, or she would have killed someone else. Inserting her key into her door, she had it opened and closed and her shoes were kicked to the side of her foyer before she heard the television. She sighed, knowing she should be terrified, but really she only knew one person who would break into her house and watch TV.

"I'm going to kill you House." Her voice was raised and she heard his laughter.

"What if I have dinner? All waiting here for you? And I tell you that the Devils are kicking ass, and I'm not mad that you missed the first period?" He showed up, poking his heard around the doorway to her living room. In his hand was a glass of red wine, which he was offering to her.

"Depends on what's for dinner." She answered shortly, taking the glass from his out stretched hand and padding past him to sink into her sofa with a weary sigh. On the table was a plate of some kind of pasta, with plenty of peppers and a delicious smell.

"I ordered, but not take out." He answered before settling down next to her and picking up his beer. "I thought you would have been much earlier, but I can reheat it." His voice trailed off as she exchanged her glass for the plate, eating it cold.

"What's the score?" She wasn't even irritated by his being here. She knew she should be but she just didn't really care. She was starving and had planned on watching the game anyway- and she was kind of glad she didn't have to be in her silent house alone, screaming at her TV.

"Wow- you _must_ be tired. Not even a little bit of yelling at me? It's two nothing. Take that Emery." He muttered as the sports casters discussed the goal tending match up. She placed her now empty plate back on the table and picked up the wine once again, sinking further into the sofa. "What the hell happened to you today?"

"One of the doctors had a sexual harassment complaint filed against him-" He pulled a face and looked at her in sympathy.

"Is it legit?"

"I don't know." She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face and taking another drink. "I'm just tired – it started out like this really good day and over lunch morphed into the day from hell. What about you? Did you guys catch any cases?" He shook his head in a negative and she shrugged. "Thank you – for the clinic and not making me fight with you."

"Yeah well," His voice was gruff and he ignored her gaze. "It's only for a week, and only because I have to. Next week it's all back to normal. You'll have to track me down and yell at me, and I won't move unless you wear the really tight low cut tops."

"Good." She spoke with a laugh when he glanced at her shocked. "It was freaky today. Wilson thinks you have some kind of fatal personality switching disorder, and well, any excuse to wear my favorite shirts."

"Ha! I knew it. You love wearing those shirts. You like the boys to be staring at the girls, don't you?" He leaned closer, staring down her top for a good minute before she shoved at his shoulder, laughing.

"Shut up. The game is coming back on."

"Ironic that you're telling me to shut up just so you can yell obscenities at little moving picture people who can't hear you." She just glared at him until he turned with a shrug toward the game. An hour later she was still muttering under her breath about defense and glaring at the TV while she put down her second empty glass.

"You have a filthy mouth when you watch sports." He grinned over at her as the teams exited the ice surface. "It's kind of hot."

"Kind of?" She arched a brow at him and he laughed.

"Okay, really hot." It was her turn to laugh, as she laid down, taking up two thirds of the space available, and curling her legs under her and propping her head on her hand. "You'll fall asleep if you lay down." He pointed out. "And I'm not carrying you anywhere, just so you know." She nodded tiredly, before sliding her head down until it was laying against his leg. She was so damn tired, and the wine hadn't really helped at all.

"I should finish watching this in bed." She yawned and felt his hand playing with her hair, sliding in and out. When she glanced up, however his eyes were on the TV and she wasn't even sure if he knew he was doing it.

"Well personally I think that's moving a bit fast, Lisa. Right into bed after twenty years of knowing each other? I try to hold out til twenty two years personally, but if you insist.." His voice was low and teasing and she rolled her eyes.

"First of all, you weren't invited-" She ignored his injured gasp. "Second of all you didn't wait twenty years or twenty two years to sleep with me-"

"Right it was totally only like..." He trailed of, screwing his face up in concentration. "Fourteen years? God I'm such an easy whore." She laughed, rolling onto her back so that she was able to meet his eyes. Placing a hand over her stomach she glared at him through her laughter.

"Stop making me laugh – I so shouldn't have had that last glass of wine." When she looked up at him though, he wasn't watching her face but rather his eyes were watching her hands. When he met her eyes again his face was serious.

"Did you stop trying?" She felt a dry sting behind her eyes, and closed them in response. She knew he was asking about her attempts to get pregnant, something she hadn't really discussed with him since before he was shot.

"It's expensive." She shrugged. "When I started I knew I could only afford three rounds. The first two failed, and the last one... _really_ failed." Her voice was soft and she felt the ridiculous urge to cry, but managed to push it down.

"I'm sorry- I didn't know." His voice was low, and he glanced away as if uncomfortable he had brought it up in the first place.

"I didn't tell you, so why be sorry?" Her voice was matter of fact and she struggled to hide and tremor in it. "You were right – I'm just not meant to be-"

"I'm an ass. And I was pissed when I said that. I'm generally a much nicer person when given unlimited access to medication." He smiled but she didn't return it, choosing instead to cover her eyes with her hands. She could feel herself getting upset again, even months later, and she couldn't stand him seeing it. "You shouldn't just give up."

"Oh sure, I won't. But.. can I borrow fifteen thousand to try again? Cause I'm a bit short this month." Her voice was biting and she felt him draw her hands from her eyes. She tried not to blink as she looked up at him.

"There are other ways."

"Right- then go forth and find me a man who will willingly try to get me pregnant despite not actually being married or even knowing each other that well and who will either be there for the duration or leave me and his child the hell alone once he does the deed. And can you itemize the list, since apparently you know _so_ many candidates. Nothing major, just you know, job, I.Q and genetic history should be fine." She had sat up as she spoke, glaring at him while trying desperately not to cry. He just had to drag this all up again. Like it hadn't been a wound she'd been picking at for almost a year.

"Wilson-"

"Is _so_ not an option." She laughed harshly, turning to look at him. "I don't want to talk about this." She told him weakly, but he slid closer to her, taking her arms and pinning her there, by his mere presence if not his strength. "Wilson- God House he can't commit to a woman for more than five minutes and I should hope it would somehow be different for a kid? Or on the other hand I should expect him to work for me, see his kid all the damn time and be able to keep his distance? He would suck at it."

"There must be someone else you could ask-"

"Yeah. There is but I know he wouldn't be interested." Here eyes met his and she cursed inwardly as she felt the tears finally escape her iron control. Neither of them moved, or even breathed, and she felt like she was dying in front of him. She had almost asked him. Almost begged him to be the best friend he could be and hand her her dream. When she had looked into his face that night though – she had seen the expectation there, the willingness. He hadn't been House, sitting quietly waiting for her to ask him for something he could hold over her the rest of her natural life. He had been Greg. It almost made it hard for her to breath, standing there and seeing him for the first time in such a long time. No anger. No sarcasm. No quips, just Greg. But while the thought of having House be a father to her child was fine – she could handle that, she barely liked House - having _Greg_ be the father terrified her at the time. It would have attached her to him for the rest of her life. Having him as her employee, while difficult, didn't mean she could never get past him. Move on and find.. _someone_ who she could love half as much. Having his baby, seeing a tiny life that was a perfect blend of him and her would have made her love him twice as much and take away any hope she had of being happy with someone else.

_You're never going to be happy with someone else._ It was a tired voice inside her that spoke, like it was sick of making the same point over and over again. "You didn't ask, how do you know?" His voice was soft and drew her out of her thoughts. His eyes were locked on hers and his hands were still wrapped around her shoulders.

"Greg.." Her voice was a plea, begging him to stop and not go anywhere all at once. "It's not safe." Her voice was barely audible, but he was so close at this point he could hear things she wasn't saying anyway.

"Safe is boring Lisa. Let me help you." He swallowed heavily, before meeting her eyes again. She had never seen him so serious for such a long period of time. She felt like she was waking up in a heavy blanket, it was wrapped all around her, awkward and smothering and she was fighting to escape it, yet unwilling to leave it's comfort and warmth all at once. She wanted to escape him, and lay down and drown in him all at once. He was offering her something she had wanted for almost half her life. It was like offering an addict drugs, just sitting it in front of them. They knew they shouldn't but they wanted to touch and taste and take what was right in front of them.

"You don't know what you're-" Asking. Offering. Giving. Any would have worked, but none seemed quite right.

"I don't? I thought about it last year. I thought you would have asked then. I don't really like kids Lisa, but everyone says it's different when they're yours. And let's face it, a kid of ours would be.. amazing, not to be conceited. I was glad when you just backed off last year. I told myself I'd make a lousy Dad, and that it was better for you if it was someone else. I make everyones life worse for being there." She drew in a breath at having her words repeated back to her.

"Greg I didn't-"

"Yes, you did mean it. Don't wuss out on me now. You're the only person who has called me on it, and actually made an impact. You're the only one who has been there. For all of it. The only one who refused to leave me, even when I was shoving you out the door, so to speak." He paused, looking away for a moment before sighing and looking back at her. "Let me do this for you. With you. Hell, at the worst you're stuck with me for twenty years or so, and you seem to have survived the first twenty just fine. I could just get you drunk and knock you up." He leered, finally giving break to the tension that had snaked around them, locking them together. "We both know you'd let me."

"I'd need to go back on injections.." She protested weakly and he slid his hands over her shoulders and smoothed them down her back. She shivered slightly and he smiled, knowing he was winning.

"Yay, can I give them again? That was fun times." He laughed and his palm moved around her rib cage, and settled by her waist. She wiped a hand over her eyes, rubbing away the dampness and she sniffed.

"What does it mean?" She whispered, glancing back at him and killing the teasing light in his eyes.

"It means we have sex when we need to, and you get pregnant and have a baby. It means.. we'll re-evaluate after that happens. I don't really know what it means."

"The board.." She tried one last time, one last ditch attempt by her brain to extricate herself from this situation, this space, this embrace.

"I have tenure, so it's not like it's technically improper. You'll just have to remove yourself from any votes regarding me, and we'll pray Wilson pinch hits one for the team." He over rode her last objection and her mind sank into acceptance as her heart beat an excited tattoo against her chest.

"Alright." She spoke out loud, and he let out a breath.

"Seriously?"

"Oh my God what am I thinking? Yes seriously. We'll try." She looked at him and he seemed to be breathing easier.

"Well thank God, if you held out any longer we'd miss the rest of the game." He joked and sat back. She sat beside him, feeling not tired at all anymore, now that she had decided to have a baby. "So.. what are the chances you're ovulating right now?" He laughed as she smacked him in the arm.

"Sorry, that would be slim to none. Next week, maybe." His eyes registered surprise, echoed on her face after she spoke. It seemed too soon. It was a bad idea – what had she agreed to? Just this afternoon she had thought how allowing House to be a _friend_ was not good, and now she had just agreed to get involved in-

"Stop thinking. You're ruining the moment." His hand slid down to hers, and he held it tightly. The pressure distracted her from her thoughts, and she leaned into his side, nodding her agreement, and turning her eyes toward the game. Stop thinking about getting everything you ever wanted, only not quite. No problem.


	6. Are You RedY?

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Well, last chapter got the most reviews so far! Maybe I should make you all wait three days all the time, hmm? I love all the reviews, really. I'm addicted to them and love getting them. This chapter is a definite T but I won't be going above it at all. I don't write smut- I'm just a cut and fade to black kind of gal, sorry!

* * *

He had half expected her to change her mind. Wake up the next day, realize it was Tuesday and oh she wasn't insane and call him and say no. Instead she had come into work with needles and a beguiling smile. Wednesday, he thought, for sure she would realize that she was making a mistake. Come in, laugh it off and tell him. When that didn't happen, and it didn't happen Thursday or so far today, he sat down, a bit worried that maybe he was looking forward to this a bit _too_ much. He had meant what he told her on Monday. He wanted to do this for her – he was scared stiff, and not in the fun dirty way – but it was something she needed to make her happy. And since she was one of his best friends, he wanted her happy.

_Of course, you'd do the same for Wilson too I'm sure._ He shook his head slightly at that image. Fine. Maybe it was more because it was her than because she was his friend. He owed her more. For whatever reason, she was embracing the idea, and he was too. He didn't really choose to examine it too closely. He knew he didn't want her having anyone else's baby – despite his suggestions to the opposite. His inner child had done a figurative happy dance when she shot down Wilson as a candidate so quickly. He glanced at the clock on his wall. He had already given her a shot this morning, and she would need one this evening too. They had decided to just meet at their homes for the final shot. His place sometimes but probably hers tonight. The truth was he liked the extra time they were spending together. He was reminded of their college days, and the time they had spent together just hanging out.

"House!!" A voice intruded on his thoughts and he looked up to see Chase standing in the doorway with a glare, and Wilson behind him with a smirk.

"What?" He snapped back, as if he had been paying attention all along.

"The CV test? Should we do it now that the -"

"Good God yes. Did I not say a half hour ago to do it? Do I need to hold your hands and walk you all over the hospital?" Chase merely stared for a moment before turning on his heel and leaving the office. Wilson stepped in after him before glancing over at House.

"Well- nice to see you back to your normal self." He sat down in a chair, staring pointedly at House, who did say anything. "Except I know there's something going on with you. Are you going to tell me?"

"No." He answered mildly, glancing through the journal laying on his desk, but not really reading anything.

"House, come on. It has to do with-" Just then the office door opened and Cuddy walked in backwards, reading a file as she opened the door with her hip.

"Greg, can we do it at my place tonig-" Her voice died as she looked up and saw Wilson sitting there, staring at her.

"_Greg_? Doing what? What in the hell is going on with you two?!!" Wilson had an expression on his face that looked remarkably like a cat that had just gotten wet.

"Oh alright." He sighed dramatically, throwing the journal back on the desk and standing. Moving slowly over to stand by Cuddy, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Who was I to think we could hide our love? I mean, _look_ at how hot she is for me, can't even wait until the end of the workday!"

"Oh I'm being serious House!" Wilson snapped, and Cuddy looked down at the file in her hands, fighting off a smirk. He also noticed she had made no move to step away from him. While that in itself was undoubtedly bound to raise suspicion with Wilson, he could only feel inordinately proud at the moment. Which made him more pathetic than he thought if he was excited over the fact that she hadn't pushed him away.

"I _am _being serious, aren't I honey?" He looked at Cuddy who was smiling up at him with a bemused expression. She held up her hands and laughed.

"What did I tell you about the schoolyard antics, _dear_?" She tapped his chest with the folder before glaring at him. "I meant it." She stepped away and headed toward the door. He followed at a slower pace. Hanging out the door, he hollered after her.

"About what? Doing it at your place or the games?" She turned around with a laugh.

"Both!" She carried on walking down the hall, and he watched her go, hoping that the extra sway in her walk was for his benefit.

"That was touching really, almost civil, which worries me even more." Wilson's voice issued from behind him and he rolled his eyes.

"Can't you just accept that I don't tell you every little thing? Just this once, geez. You'll find out soon enough hopefully, just let it go." Wilson brushed by him angrily and turned once out in the hall.

"Fine, I'll let it go. But if you are planning something to screw her over, or seriously hurt her-" Wilson's face was pinched and House stared at him calmly.

"Have I ever seriously hurt her?" He pointed out in what he hoped was a rational tone. Wilson just looked him in the eye with a serious face.

"Yes." He didn't add anything else, but turned and headed toward his own office. House stood there, frowning slightly until Wilson disappeared from his line of vision. When he moved slowly back into his office, his phone was ringing. He picked it up, but only after inspecting the call display.

"You really can't stay away from me, huh?" Her laugh traveled down the line and he lowered himself into his chair. Swinging his legs up on his desk, he grabbed his PSP from the desk surface.

"Yes, you're irresistible, really." Her dry voice shot back and he could hear the shuffle of papers in the background. "I changed my mind. We should do it at your place."

"Alright – and particular reason for the change?" He was busy turning on his system and starting up his saved Killzone game.

"Yes." She answered simply, falling silent again and he hit the pause button with a frown.

"Are you going to share?" He spoke slowly and he could almost feel her glare through the line.

"No, not right now. I'll talk to you about it tonight. So I'll see you when I get off, alright?"She spoke quickly and he smirked.

"Well I would prefer before during and after you getting off, but I'll take what I can." He heard her sigh and his smirk toned down to a smile at the sound.

"See you tonight Greg." She didn't say goodbye, or wait for a response from him, she just hung up. He replaced the phone in it's cradle, smiling slightly at nothing. Holding his game in listless hands he wondered why exactly she had changed the locale. After a minute thinking of plausible scenarios, he shrugged. He'd find out soon enough. Satisfied with that thought he restarted his game and quickly became absorbed.

* * *

Her grip on the canvas bag was almost painful, and she knew she should have cleared this with him beforehand, but wasn't that the point? She felt like she couldn't bring it up, so if she just did it, it would seem less awkward. Right. More forced, and wasn't that better? She closed her eyes and tapped on the door lightly, knowing he'd be waiting. The door opened after a moment and she smiled, walking around him as he held the door open for her. She dropped her bag and took her shoes off beside it. He helped her with her coat, hanging it up before glancing down at the bag.

"Did I tell you what drugs I was on?" She stammered out, and he glanced at her with confusion.

"Wouldn't it be gondatropins? I don't know, um, Repronex, or-"

"I had three trials with those previously. My doctor didn't think they would work again, so I got Puregon this time." She spoke in a calm tone, walking to the sofa and placing her purse on the coffee table.

"Isn't that only available in Europe?" She nodded and he sat next to her heavily, hooking his cane on the end table. "And you need a really big injection now?" He joked, nodding at the bag.

"No." She smiled nervously. "See Repronex takes seven to twelve days, but the great thing about Puregon is it only takes five to seven days. So tomorrow is when I can get the H cg shot. Which means that..." She rolled her hands in front of her and he laughed.

"I'm getting laid tomorrow. Sweet." She smacked his arm lightly, while not quite being able to repress her smile.

"Anyway- I thought- I mean it's been.. a while. And I don't want it to be awkward or weird, or- I thought if I stayed tonight-"

"I'm getting laid _tonight_?!" She smacked him again, harder this time.

"No. Maybe. I just thought it would be good if we at least spent the night together before- dammit this all sounded great and logical in my office. I just didn't want it to be all-"

"Sex for a baby type pressure the first time. I agree. Now take off your shirt." He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes. "Oh fine, I guess I'll feed you first." He pouted. "Although you can really eat very well with no shirt on."

"I am not taking off my shirt so I can sit here and freeze my ass off just so you can look at my breasts." She stood, heading into the kitchen to get herself a drink of water. She pulled a bottle from the fridge, and heard his laughter from the next room.

"How much did you pack?! Oh I like this thing, nice to see you planned ahead-" She bolted back into the room, grabbing her bag from his curious hands.

"You suck so much Greg! God!" She glared at him but he simply sat there looking completely unrepentant. She felt the odd urge to laugh at his expression. She hoped that any child of theirs didn't inherit it. Suddenly she could see a little boy with bright blue eyes and a stubborn unapologetic face and her heart constricted. She stopped glaring and took a sip of her water quickly. Meanwhile he had taken advantage of her distraction to sidle along next to her and when she looked again he was close. Really close. She could smell him, a mix of coffee and sugar and the underlying smell of the Vicodin that hung around him like a cloud. Breathing deeply she swayed toward him slightly, her body betraying her by showing just how close she wanted- _needed_ to be to him. His free hand came up to steady her, pressing against her shoulder for a moment before sliding down the exposed skin there until it was cupping her elbow.

She couldn't remember why she had been upset, all she could think about was the fact that his hand was touching her bare skin and she felt like it was super sensitized. Every nerve ending felt like it was stretching out to feel the brush of his hand against it. She bit her lip uncertainly, wondering if this moment seemed to be lasting forever just to her? It was a stupid girly thought, but she couldn't stop thinking it anyway. How did it feel to him? His eyes were focused on her mouth and when he pushed forward slightly, she didn't move. She waited for his mouth to reach hers and it seemed like it was in slow motion. She had never kissed him that night. He had been drunk and she had been angry. She had tasted every other part of him, her mouth punishing as his hands had bit into her soft flesh in a bruising manner. It hadn't been soft, or gentle or any of those romantic things. It had been hard and biting and painful and oh so pleasurable at the same time. She had been sore for days after ward, and in combination with the overwhelming guilt she had felt horrible the next day. She had thought it would be the only time- the only memory she would ever have of him. She had thought it was appropriate that the one time she got what she had wanted it had been painfully erotic. If that didn't fit them, what did?

When his mouth finally made contact with hers, it was unsure, and soft. She could feel his usual beard growth soft against her skin and his lips were warm and dry over hers. He was going slow, and she felt a smile bubble at the thought. She also felt a surge of pure lust for the man in front of her. When she had allowed herself to dream about this moment over the years, it was never this slow and gentle. Her hands moved up on their own, dropping the water bottle and wrapping around his neck. She pulled him more solidly against her, and she opened her mouth, running her tongue against his. His hand had wrapped around her waist pulling her against his body fully, fitting her into his frame like an interlocking puzzle piece and she felt a thrill shoot through her chest at the feeling. Her hand moved to stroke his jaw as she deepened the kiss, taking full control despite the fact that she was at a height disadvantage. His hand gripped her hip tightly and as her tongue met his in a battle for control she happily decided if given the choice between breathing and kissing Greg House, she would opt to die.

When he finally pulled away slightly he braced a hand against the wall next to them. Her breathing was heavy and she could feel something tickle her feet but she wasn't paying attention. She was watching him look down at her, his eyes even bluer if possible, dark and hot enough to make a shiver slide along her skin.

"Holy shit." He breathed out, his free hand coming up to trace along her neck reverently. She leaned back against the wall, allowing him to lean with her and giving him more support since he had lost his cane somewhere along the way. His fingers felt like live electricity on her skin and she smiled.

"I'm not hungry." She breathed out as he leaned closer to her.

"Me either." he responded quickly. She rose on her tip toes and pressed her mouth against the skin below his jawline, but it was soft and gentle instead of biting. The difference was amazing as he seemed to fall into her, his hand tangling in her hair. She met his mouth eagerly when his hands pulled her face up to his. It was better the second time, and she briefly wondered how that was possible, exactly? He tasted more mellow, more familiar and she shuddered against him as his hands traveled down her back until they brushed against her ass. She broke away, stepping around him to get his cane from the floor. It had miraculously not landed in the pool of water that Hector was currently licking off the floor. She handed it back to him, before walking to the coffee table and grabbing her purse. She didn't look to see if he was following her to the bedroom, she was fairly sure at that point that he would be right behind her. She opened her purse by the bed, pulling out her syringe kit. Her hands shook as she tried to draw the fluid, and he took it from her, pushing her back until she was bent over, bracing her arms against the bed. When he lifted her skirt and she felt the cool touch of alcohol, she was struck by how erotic this was. She was on her tiptoes, braced against the bed and he was standing so close behind her she could feel the heat from him. The needle pinched, and a moment later she heard it being thrown into the trash beside the bed. His hands gripped her hips pulling her against him and she may have moaned a bit at the contact.

His hand moved up her back, inching the fabric of her shirt up bit by bit as he went, his mouth following closely behind it. When he reached the strap of her bra, he removed it quickly, running his hands under her ribcage and tracing along the undersides of her breasts. She felt a shiver wrack her body and she pushed back, standing and turning in his arms. As she kissed him again, like he was some intangible element necessary for her survival, she found herself wondering how she ever thought this would be anything less than perfect. Her back hit the mattress softly and she welcomed his weight on top of her and his hands against her skin, running in circles all over whatever he could touch. She had secretly known, had always known. Once they did this, there would be no going back for her. No way she could even think about doing this with anyone other than him ever again. It was still and quiet in the room, the only sounds their intermingling breaths and slight moans. There was no soundtrack for the moment, but she felt graceful anyway, like she was moving to a rhythm that no one else could hear. And in her head, it was a soft sound, like soft clicks as all of their pieces fit together. It was his breath on her skin and his taste in her mouth and the feeling for the first time that it was absolutely right. The last coherent thought she was able to have was that she hadn't known it was so different when it was done with love.

* * *

The sunlight was bright when he woke the next morning, and the bed was warm. He wrapped the blankets around him and sank into it for a moment before the scent of coconut and vanilla hit him and memories of last night filtered through his brain. For a brief moment he grinned, laying there with his eyes closed and a ridiculous smile on his face. He wasn't worried, he knew she wasn't there to see it. He couldn't hear her breathing and the bed was empty. He could hear the sound of something in the kitchen, so he just assumed she had woken up before him. Not surprising really. He woke often during the nights, and tended to sleep later in the mornings because of it. He rolled over, sitting up and rubbed his leg reflexively. The pain was always worst in the mornings, after a long stretch of time not taking any of his Vicodin. He smirked, thinking that the pain was especially bad today, and no wonder. He had no complaints though. When he opened his eyes he saw a glass of water and three Vicodin sitting on the bedside table. He smiled for a moment before grabbing them and swallowing them quickly. He noticed his cane was now propped against the foot of the bed as well, and he pulled on pants quickly before grabbing it and heading to the bathroom.

When he finally made it to the kitchen, the sight that greeted him made him pause just outside the doorway. She was cleaning – which frankly didn't surprise him , Cuddy was an absolute control freak and it made sense that it extended into her cleaning habits. What did surprise him was that she was.. prancing around. He tilted his head slightly and watched for a moment. Maybe it was dancing. She was dressed in a dress shirt of his, one of the less wrinkled ones – _wonder where she found it_ – and he could see her hot pink panties through the light blue material clearly, especially since she was currently shaking her ass for all it was worth. He could also see ear buds in her ears, and figured she must have her iPod tucked somewhere, but her back was to him and he couldn't tell for sure. Smirking, he entered the kitchen quietly, although he was pretty sure that she had the volume jacked so loud he could have thrown things and she wouldn't have noticed. So he was leaning against the counter, his cane hooked on the surface next to him and enjoying the show when she turned around to start drying the dishes she had just washed. Her scream even made him jump and she yanked the ear buds out, glaring at him.

"House, dammit you gave me a heart attack! How long have you been there?" She pulled her iPod out of the pocket of the shirt, turning it off and silencing the muffled thuds of music that were emitting from the tiny ear phones.

"Long enough to want to hire you as my personal maid. Hmm, if I could see that every morning-" She smacked his arm lightly and shook her head.

"Music makes cleaning go faster. Which is great because I hate it." She pulled a face and he cocked a brow at her.

"Then why do it?"

She rolled her eyes in his direction before drying the dishes and putting them away. "Because it irritates me more to see a dirty kitchen. Fortunately it's the only room I'm annoyed by. Although-"

"No, this is all you're doing." He took the drying towel from her hands and threw it on the counter. Still keeping her wrists in his hand he tugged her forward. "Remember, we have work to do today. Of the much more fun variety." His grin widened as he glanced down as was rewarded with a clear view of her unfettered breasts. Holding his other hand up, he waved the two syringes that he had taken from the bathroom before he left. "The doctor is in." She laughed up at him and tried to glare but the effort was ruined by her smile.

"Fine." She braced her arms against the counter, and lifted the edge of the shirt , waiting. His eyes darkened briefly as he was reminded of last night, but he forced himself to get out the alcohol wipe before jabbing her twice quickly. "There," He reached around her throwing the empty syringes in the trash next to them. "Is that a work bell I hear? My boss _hates_ me to be late..."

She turned from the counter and faced him with a smile lighting her eyes. Sliding her arms up around his neck, he shivered at the feel of her soft skin trailing along the back of his neck. When she rose on tip toe to kiss him, he accommodated her by leaning down slightly and bracing his weight on the counter behind her. It amazed him – had amazed him last night that every single time he touched her, it felt newer and better than the time before. He didn't really know how he was going to stop once the plan worked and she got pregnant, but in typical fashion, he decided to worry about that when it happened. Her fingernails scraped into his hair and he pressed her forward until the edge of the counter hit her lower back. He was pressed against her fully, his hands now free to roam her body and discover things like how she had barely buttoned the shirt, only two buttons near the top, leaving the bottom half of it wide open for his hands to slide under. He could hear the sound of his blood pounding in his ears and Hector barking, but he ignored the mutt. The dog had become really attached to her lately, but it was time he learned who was the dog and who was the man in this situation.

She broke off, her breathing ragged in his ear as he followed, sliding his lips down her throat, scraping the sensitive skin there with his beard. She hadn't complained last night, and he didn't hear any complaints now, just her gasping little breaths as she arched into him, trying to get closer than was physically possible with her in his shirt and him in pants. "Greg.." Her voice panted out, like a breathy moan and the simple sound of it was acting like a shot of pure lust.

"House? You didn't answer so I used my key. Julie can take Hector back now and I came by to _oh my God!!!!_" Wilson's voice preceded him into the kitchen and he was able – just barely- to yank her shirt down and closed and shield her with his body. She growled- _growled, cool – _into his chest as she dropped her head to avoid looking at a very embarrassed James Wilson who he assumed was currently flailing around in the doorway trying to cover his eyes. His back was to him, though, so he could only go by the noises from the doorway.

"Oh my god, I am- so sorry House. I didn't know and - is that _Cuddy?!_ Oh my God, shit. Again, so sorry and I'll just go and-"

"Jimmy!" House snapped over his shoulder interrupting his rambling apology and general embarrassment. "Go wait in the living room. Sit down , turn the tv on, and do not turn around. Don't even so much as employ your peripheral vision until I tell you it's fine, got it?" He heard the sound of Wilson leaving the doorway before he glanced down at her. She was glaring over his shoulder with a strength that scared even him, and he had been on the receiving end of some of her most deadly glares. "Go get dressed, and if you could throw me a shirt-" She nodded and escaped down the hall quickly. A moment later she threw a shirt out at him – the same one she had just been wearing. Smirking, he pulled it on – _oh still warm! -_ and went to the living to go commit murder.


	7. 48 Hours

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Okay, here's a scenario for you. I'm sitting, playing the sandbox of my mind when a plot bunny, let's call it Ann, wanders in and demands to be written. Now when I told Ann, sure I'd write her, but what was she about? She just shrugged and told me to write or not, she didn't care, but hurry up about it. So I decided to write. So I wake up one morning and suddenly Ann has had twins. Problem is - I can't write both of Ann's babies into the story. I have to pick one over the other and I can't decide. So I figured, I'd make you all choose one bunny over the other. And not just because it's a really cool way to bribe you into leaving a review, but that's a nice bonus. It's because I can't decide. Just for clarification, each bunny will get written, but just not in this story. Okay so let's call the first baby bunny Steve. Steve is not a very nice bunny. He's kind of angsty, a bit emotional, probably will make you cry and he's carrying around what seem to be implements of torture to use on House. Mean Steve. Good story, but mean bunny. Then there's this other bunny Lola. Lola is a bit sad too - I mean she's Steve's sister and genetics count for something right? But she a much milder, more humorous bunny. Plus she doesn't carry around all those pointy sharp things. Most she'd do is maybe bite you a little, or kick you and really how hard can a bunny kick? So it's up to you guys to pick. Steve or Lola. Either way the other one will get written... eventually.

* * *

He was nervous and he didn't mind the fact. In fact, he purposely exploited it, because really what good were things like guilt, nervousness and fear if you couldn't use them to manipulate. He hadn't spoken since sitting down, he had merely taken out her iPod, and scrolled through the playlists as Wilson watched him like a small child eying a large rabid dog. Which was ridiculous, he was a three legged dog at most and he paused, wondering if kids were just as scared of three legged dogs as fully functional dogs. He shrugged, figuratively and literally and continued to scroll through her music choices. There it was, last played. Diplo Rhythm. What in the hell was that? He hit the play button and held an ear bud up to his ear in time to hear a pulsating techno beat before Wilson ripped it away from him. He hadn't heard much, and he sighed as he shut the iPod off again, thinking about how it would be nice to see a repeat performance, but clearly Wilson wasn't going to allow him a little fantasy time right now. 

"Aren't you going to say anything? Do anything?" Wilson paused in between the two questions and he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Oh yes – that's just what I'll do. Kill my best friend for having the gall not to call. You haven't done anything to deserve killing – aside from a massive amount of sexual frustration and the knowledge that I'd be _much_ happier right now if you weren't here.." His voice trailed off suggestively and as expected a disgusted noise issued from Wilson. "However, none of these are offenses punishable by death. Now if you open your big mouth on the other hand.." his voice slid down an octave, a terse warning underlying the joking way in which he delivered the threat.

"I don't even understand. Two weeks ago she was out with me- and now I find the two of you sleeping together- isn't that a bit fast?" His voice was an odd mixture of hurt and disbelief and House glanced at him closely. _Shit._ He really hoped this wasn't what it looked like, because it looked like Wilson might have actually liked Cuddy. And that would suck – because not only was he a lousy friend who wouldn't step back even if it was just sex with her – which it wasn't – but also because he was the type of person who didn't share well. At all. Even with friends, and if he thought that Wilson actually _liked_ her – for some reason he chose not to examine too closely at that moment he would be angry. Wilson had known – known all along about why he avoided Cuddy. At least he thought Wilson knew. It's not like they had ever had any heart to hearts about the whole thing. He paused for a moment, staring at his friend who was staring ahead blankly.

"I'm only going to say this once Wilson – and never again do you understand? Twenty years, _years_ I have been waiting for this. Whatever it is. I don't know what you're thinking or feeling-" His voice sneered slightly over the word but he forced himself to go on. "I don't care either. Lisa is- off limits as of this moment." He was gripping his cane in his hands now, leaning forward heavily, despite the fact that he was still sitting down. Wilson stared seriously at him and opened his mouth to respond, but House hit him purposely in the leg with his cane. A second later she emerged from the room in her running shorts and a tank top. Striding over she crossed her arms and stared at the two men sitting before her. Her eyes lit on her iPod and she leaned down, snatching it from his lap and causing his heart to almost stop at how dangerously close her breasts came to the neckline of her shirt.

"I'm going out." She stared at the two of them silently for a moment after making her announcement. Turning her gaze to him, she looked at him with a frown. "Fix this." He nodded silently, and was surprised when she leaned down again, this time pressing her lips against the side of his face. "I'll be back soon." With that she stood and walked out of the apartment quickly, the door banging shut behind her in the silence.

"Are you telling me that this is permanent, and you actually care?" Wilson's voice interrupted his thoughts as he had watched her go.

"I didn't _say_ anything." He snapped back at Wilson's verbal jab. "And I won't so you can stop sitting there with the girly sympathetic eyes. The point is – if you mention this to anyone – _anyone_ at work I will hunt you down and kill you."

"I never thought it would work.." Wilson's tone was musing and he glared at him, a dawning horror coming over him. Wilson was his friend, and as such he was much more of a sneaky manipulative bastard than most gave him credit for. Sure he hid it all under the eyes, and the soft tones and the saintly veneer, but House knew better. Knew him better.

"You absolute bastard! You asked her out on purpose, didn't you?" Wilson shrugged, merely confirming it all with his lack of a verbal response. "You ass! I wouldn't have- if you hadn't-" He stopped for a moment just staring in wonder at Wilson. He could see now, looking back, all of Wilson's taunts about sleeping with her, the second date – it was all designed to force his hand. Hell even the guilt inducing 'you hurt her' speech yesterday had been engineered to force him to make a move. He ground his teeth together – even if the end result was something he appreciated, he disliked being manipulated. "And they say _I'm_ the bad one." He mocked lightly, forcing the words out. Wilson just laughed and leaned back, flicking the TV on casually.

"Who made who?"

"Don't you have to take your poor excuse for a dog and leave?" He leaned back as well, both annoyed and oddly relieved that any feelings Wilson had been portraying toward Cuddy were for his sake.

"Soon enough, I figure we have a half hour at least. You should have seen her face when I walked in-"

"Yeah, you can forget whatever you saw." He bit out, not quite to the point where he wanted Wilson discussing anything remotely related to sex, sexual frustration or any combination of the two in relation to Cuddy. The feeling was not resting comfortably with him – it was territorial and really if he followed the rules of their arrangement he shouldn't be feeling anything like this. But when had he ever followed rules?

"Saw what?" Wilson responded mildly and he nodded in his direction before turning to the TV.

* * *

Her feet were beating a rhythm on the pavement, echoed by the music in her ears as she ran. She felt the tension seeping out of her body with each step, like her feet were triggers, shooting bullets of stress out with each fall. She loved to run, it let her think, it let her process, and today – she had more than usual to process. Like the fact that she was getting physically involved – even if temporarily – with a man who she knew would hurt her in the end. Oh she never thought that he would mean to do it, but he would none the less. Either she wouldn't get pregnant and that would hurt, or she would and would lose him and that would hurt as well. 

There was no happy solution here. There was no long term happiness hovering out on the horizon waiting to be discovered. She had always known they wouldn't work long term, they were too different, and too similar. They were just.. too. Too much hot, too much cold, too much love, too much hate. Just too. She felt a cloying feeling claw it's way up her chest but she forced it down. It was her mind trying to attach itself to her heart, and she stubbornly refused to let it. Her mind wanted to prepare her for all the ways this would go wrong, and her heart wanted her mind to just fuck off and let her be happy. It was a battle of epic proportions, but she had no intention of taking sides, or watching it. She simply lengthened her stride and ran harder, until she could only focus on breathing in and out, the air painfully burning her lungs, but essential for her to carry on. Then she couldn't think about how he had always been the same as the cold air rushing in and out – painful but necessary for her to live.

When she walked through the door nearly an hour later, she was hot and sweaty and every movement burned. She wanted to collapse and not move, but force propelled her forward, past the two men on the sofa sitting silently absorbed in whatever program they were watching. They both spared her a glance as she walked by though, and House held up a bottle of water that was sitting unopened and still cool on the coffee table. She took it with brief thanks, taking long gulps before putting it down and exiting toward the bedroom.

When she was under the hot spray of the shower, she finally let her head fall forward, the spray loosening aching muscles. She wasn't surprised when a few moments later she heard the bathroom door open. When she shut the water off, he was standing there with a towel in one hand and leaning on his cane. "He won't talk."

"I know." She answered simply, perfectly confidant in his abilities to keep Wilson under control. Wrapping the towel around herself, she stepped past him into the bedroom. She heard him follow her and when his hands brushed against her bare skin she wasn't surprised, she just leaned into the touch slightly.

When his mouth pressed into her shoulder, she shivered lightly feeling the cool air hitting her and the warmth from the contact clashing. She could feel him about to say something, could feel the words as the bubbled up through his chest – but she wasn't in a mood for talk. She didn't want to know what this meant or what he had said, or if Wilson thought they were together, or if he had admitted something far more damning. She just wanted to go back to the way it was before Wilson had let himself in. No thinking, just feeling too much love, too much heat, too much lust, too much sensation for her to possibly think about the real world, or worry if they were making a baby this time, or that time, and what if she lost it again. She refused to ponder, or talk it to death, so she simply turned in his arms, dropping the towel as she wound her own around his neck and pulled him against her. His eyes lit with understanding and for a moment before his lips met hers, she felt an ache settle in her chest knowing that they never needed to talk to be perfectly understood.

* * *

She was warm in his arms, her skin hot to the touch and he could feel it burning into his, like she was subconsciously branding him in her sleep. She had set the alarm before she crawled in next to him to wrap then chilled limbs around him. He didn't complain though, because how often did he have a naked woman in his bed? Really. She had muttered about going by her place before work tomorrow and he had to bite down on the childish urge to ask why? Why leave at all? But he knew why – they had been here two days, 48 hours, 2880 minutes – which didn't seem nearly long enough to him, a lousy two thousand minutes? Closer to three thousand but that wasn't the point. 

The point was, even now as he watched her sleep after an exhausting weekend, in which he had done most of the exhausting, even as her skin burned into his, marking a permanent memory in his mind – he missed her. She would be gone when he woke – he knew the alarm wouldn't wake him and she would creep to let him sleep even though if the situations were reversed he would make as much noise as possible, and then she would be gone. So he watched her breath evenly, watched how his hand looked tangled in her hair in the dark, watched how her hand was curled by her face, but not under it.

The deal had been ridiculous. The plan had been not fully thought out, and while that was completely usual for him, it wasn't for her. How had he agreed to this again? _Suggested it actually._ He closed his eyes and willed his inner voice to shut up. It always sounded a bit like Wilson, which was annoying enough on it's own, but he didn't need it right now. He knew it was a stupid plan. What had he been thinking again? _Something about owing her and giving her everything she wanted to be happy. If you ask me though-_ He hadn't asked the stupid taunting voice though, so he cut that train of thought off quickly. He should have realized – but he had been an idiot. He assumed that because he had slept with her once before and survived, it would be the same. Problem was it was so different it was like comparing a hamster to a tiger. Two entirely different species. Two entirely different women, except not. Cuddy compared to Lisa.

A gleam entered his eyes as he watched her. It really was ridiculous. They were friends. Well, sure they were just becoming friends again, but the point was that they had been best friends before and would be again. So technically, they were friends. They liked each other's company, the sex was unbelievable, in fact it had all the ear markers of what could possibly be the perfect relationship. She knew him. Knew how he was, and knew enough to not get offended by it. Pissed, yes, but not really offended. So why not? He was fairly sure she wouldn't go for it right away. She would take some convincing, he was sure. But he was patient – when he needed to be. It was perfect, he could have her company and not miss out on all the incredible sex, and maybe even have a baby. Well that might conflict with the hot hot sex, he frowned, and he wasn't sure how hands on he wanted to be in that department.

Really, he didn't scream 'potential father' material. Not to anyone sane anyway – but apparently she saw something. Or maybe not. Maybe she had picked him specifically _because_ he was the type to do the job and then stay out of it. He groaned slightly, rolling on his back and rubbing a hand over his face. Why in the hell did everything always have to be so complicated? His mind was always alert, always thinking three steps ahead, always scanning through five hundred possibilities. It was a side effect of his job. His job. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the ceiling. Maybe he could just diagnose it. What's the differential for liking someone, enjoying sex with, attempting to father their child when you weren't sure you really ever wanted one. At the same time, you sure as hell didn't want anyone _else_ fathering said child. At least that was clear in his mind – if Lisa Cuddy had a baby he wanted it to be his. And she wanted a baby. His mind ran in circles and he glanced over at the clock, squinting in the dark at it's unlit display. He had bought it because he didn't usually want to see the time in the middle of the night. He could make out a three but nothing after – so it was at least three am. Three hours until she crept away.

He tried to picture it. Maybe that was the best way – test the scenario and observe his reactions to it. He pictured them in a relationship. That one was easy, it looked a lot like what had occurred this weekend. Great sex, laughter, fighting – because he would be delusional to think they wouldn't fight – _lots_ of making up. Good reaction so far. He decided to take it a step further. What if they lived together? He knew she wouldn't give up her house, but it was a ranch style and had enough room for his piano, so he imagined it. What it would like to be there when she got home, because again – it wasn't like she ever left work before him. Except when he caught a rough case. Then he'd be able to creep in and know that she was waiting, warm and flushed from sleep, turning into him when he slid in bed. Of course living together would create all kinds of other arguments, about domestic issues, but again, there would be the happy making of the make up sex. And one of his favorite past times was getting her angry – she got this look in her eye like she was going to kill him or grab him and screw him senseless. It was a good look for her. So the reaction was still positive. No problem. Now the final test – adding a baby.

He frowned, picturing lack of sleep, and crying and wailing. Then there would be the baby to consider, who probably wouldn't be too quiet herself. There would be demands, and expectations. Whining and someone to be held responsible to for – well, forever really. He swallowed heavily and wondered what in the hell he was doing again. But just then a different image filled his mind's eye. Lisa, in that really cute white nightgown she wore, sitting in a rocking chair looking down at a baby. The look on her face was breathtaking, and achingly beautiful. She was smiling, but not her usual smile, a soft incredulous one like she couldn't believe what she was looking at. The baby was chubby, with tiny hands and the bluest eyes. He felt his breath catch in his chest as dream Lisa look up at him and smiled with this huge amount of emotion in her eyes. She was glowing, beautiful, peaceful, content. And the emotion he could see blazing out from her blue eyes was love.

He shook his head quickly, trying to dislodge the image but it wouldn't leave. It made his chest feel as though it had tightened, like someone was sitting on him. He wouldn't be a good father. At least he didn't think so. But Lisa – despite anything he had ever said to her, she would be a fantastic mother. He had grown up with a fantastic Mom and a lousy Dad – but he sure as hell didn't want any kid of his turning out like him. But his Mom.. she couldn't control his Dad, never had. It had always been clear who was in control there. Lisa was- she was able to keep him in check. A lot more than he would ever let on to her, because then she'd get confident and that wouldn't work. Would she be able to keep him in check in regards to being a Dad? He tried to picture them together with him being how he imagined he'd be with a kid. But all he could see was her riding his ass, and looking at him in that exasperated way that tended to actually bleed some guilt out of his stone cold heart. She wouldn't let him screw up – not with _her_ kid. The question here was, did he trust her enough to keep him in line? He nodded in the dark, thankful that he had at last come to a decision. Now all he needed was a plan. He was still pondering the details when he fell asleep, his hand still tangled up in her hair and her scent on his pillow.


	8. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Again thanks for the reviews. So far, in case you were wondering Lola is winning by a landslide. Sorry Steve, guess no one wants to see you right now. Steve can be my next story though - so it's not an issue. Poor little plot bunny.

* * *

Phase one of the plan was simple. Ignore her.

"Ignore her? How in the hell does that work exactly?" Wilson was sitting in his office, and they were both hunched over sandwiches. Despite his urge to keep Wilson in the dark as long as possible, he had needed someone to talk to, and to deflect Cuddy when necessary, of course.

"See Jimmy, Cuddy isn't like normal women-"

"Of course not, if she was she sure as hell wouldn't be sleeping with you." Wilson spoke dryly and House glared at him.

"Shh! We're not supposed to talk about that." He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before laying it down again. "Lisa-"

"Seriously. Still freaking me out a bit." Wilson interrupted and he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Fine, _Cuddy_ requires a special kind of influence. She doesn't do anything she doesn't want to do – unless of course you argue her into it." He leaned back with a flourish and twirled his cane with a smug smile.

"That's your _brilliant_ plan? Argue her into dating you? I'm sorry but how in the hell did you ever get women before?" Wilson took a drink before shaking his head in disgust.

"And what's your advice Dr. FeelGood? I should wait for her to get an undiagnosable disease and then hit on her? Or pretend I'm not interested at all until she eventually breaks and sleeps with me?" Wilson huffed, rolling his eyes but House dropped his cane against the floor, and it landed with a thud. "Actually..."

"No. It wouldn't work."

"But a combination of the two. I can ignore her for a week, say I'm giving her space, then continue with the friends crap until she eventually jumps me. Come on, all those hormones, combined with how great the sex was and she'll be mine in no time." He leaned back triumphantly, victory was clearly within his grasp. Wilson was just staring at him open mouthed.

"You are- seriously- you know what? Go ahead. That all makes much more sense than say, just _telling_ her you want a relationship like a normal adult. By all means, go ahead and make her crazy until she jumps you and thinks it's all just sex and you're just along for the ride. _Good plan_." Wilson stood, still shaking his head and moved to exit the office with House close behind him.

"So what are you saying?" He shouted down the hall after Wilson's retreating back. "I should do phase one for two weeks? Three? Wilson?!!" Wilson didn't turn around, merely waving a hand over his shoulder before ducking into his office. House frowned, before walking into the conference room where his team was idling. "Alright, I need you all to cover for my clinic hours this week." He spoke quickly and they looked up with varying facial expressions. Chase was nodding, not even asking, Cameron looked like she was about to ask but thought better of it, and Foreman just looked pissed.

"No. I was not hired to do your work-" Foreman started but House just ignored him and walked back into his office where he grabbed his PSP.

"Uh, actually you kind of _were_. It's the very definition of your job. Do you not want your job anymore?" Foreman just glowered and he sighed, leaning heavily on his cane. "Come on. One week, is all I'm asking and I won't ask again for.. oh I don't know, a month."

Foreman crossed his arms, glaring in his direction. "Three months and I don't have to do any environmental inspections for the same amount of time."

"Oh- bringing back memories? Are you feeling the urge again? Fine, Chase and Cameron can do them."

"Hey!" Cameron and Chase objected at the same time but he just silenced them with a glare.

"Should have spoke up sooner. If anyone needs me I'll be in our patient's room." He moved to the door slowly as confused looks passed between the three.

"Why?" Cameron was the only one brave enough to ask, and he grinned at them.

"Because that's the last place anyone would look. _D'uh_." He exited the room and headed for the bank of elevators with a smile on his face and putting his PSP in his pocket. This was going to work. No matter what Wilson thought.

* * *

She was technically abusing the paperwork. She knew this, and judging by the fearful looks on the faces of House's lackey's, they knew it too. But she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for the entire week. Week and a half, actually, seeing as it was Wednesday and she hadn't seen him sine the weekend before last. _Thwack. _Another file followed the first one as she made a show of organizing her desk when really she was just randomly lifting files so she could slam them down again. At this rate she was going to have bruised wrists.

"Explain it to me." She bit out, barely concealing her anger and Cameron visibly flinched before speaking in a hesitant tone.

"We need the brain biopsy to test for-"

"No. I don't care about that. I _get_ why you need the brain biopsy. I _get_ that there's a patient- I've read the file. What I don't" _Thwack_. "get" _Thwack._ "Is why exactly, it's _you three_ down here bugging me. Where" _Thwack_ "the" _Thwack_. "hell" _Thwack. Thwack._ "is _House?!!_" She was out of breath now, and they were watching her with heightened fear in their eyes now. Chase was creeping backwards slowly, although he didn't seem to be conscious of it and Foreman just looked pissed. Cameron was blinking like she had just stomped on her pet puppy dog and she couldn't quite handle it. She struggled to count to ten and take deep breaths, but when she reached ten she could still feel a blinding rage, so she carried on to twenty. And then thirty. And past forty. They simply watched her, much like prey eyes the predator when it's circling.

Wilson stepped in the office quickly, holding open the door which Chase and Foreman gladly bolted through. Cameron however, clearly didn't have very great survival instincts, because she faltered at the threshold. "But what about the biopsy?"

"Tell him if he wants a god damned biopsy he can damn well come down here and get approval for it himself instead of acting like-" What she would have said wasn't certain, but by then Chase had reached back through the door, grabbing Cameron and literally dragging her out of the office. She dropped into her chair, still abusing the files and muttering about Greg House. Wilson stood, poised at the door with an expression on his face of not knowing if he should stay or go. Wincing, he finally shut the door behind him and turned to her.

"You need to calm down. Look – I don't know what House has done this time-" She glared up at him just in time to see him fiddle with his tie in a nervous manner. She drew in a sharp breath, hissing it back out in anger.

"Liar. You do too know." She spat out. "There is no way he didn't tell you. I'm sure it was all very great and a good laugh, all about how he nailed the administrator, _finally_. Again. Whatever. The point is, you cannot seriously be sitting there and telling me that he didn't talk to you about it." Wilson's flush gave him away and she threw more folders from her in box onto her desk. She sighed in frustration, knowing it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't House's team's either. It was House's fault. Only House – she refused to call him Greg – would sleep with a woman with the intent of getting pregnant and then ignore her. Not only ignore her, but avoid her. Run away from her. She had waited that Monday- thinking, stupidly as it turned out, that he would come down at some point to mock her, or demand something for a patient, or even just to make the sexual innuendos he so enjoyed. The stupidest part of her had thought maybe he would call, and they would spend time together. Waiting. In the interim between doing the deed and finding out if it worked. _Thwack_. But no – that would require a normal, decent human being. Which he of course was not. "I'm sorry. I'm not pissed at you." She sighed heavily. Wilson just nodded, attempting to look sympathetic, but really how could you sympathize with a crazy hormonal woman who was idiotic enough to sleep with Greg House?

The door swung open, bouncing off the chair before closing again. Of course, in the amount of time that took, House had time to limp through and she shot a deadly glare at him. She didn't know whether to be happy to see him, or take his cane from him and pummel him to death with it. She opted for neither and managed to repress the urge to kill enough to continue glaring at him. "Oh Jimmy, I'm here to save you!" He spoke in a high tone, stepping in between the desk and Wilson, acting like a human shield. "The kids told me about the rampage. Quick, run!" He mock whispered over his shoulder as she glared harder, wondering if she could will him to just drop dead. It would be so nice.

"There's no rampage. And maybe I should stay- I would hate to see Cuddy arrested for justifiable homicide." Wilson stood, and despite his words was beating a hasty retreat.

"Hey man, two weeks was _your_ idea, not mine." House jabbed his cane in Wilson's direction and then held out his hands. Wilson just rolled his eyes before exiting the office. A heavy silence descended in which she was still testing her death by will theory. After a few beats, he whistled awkwardly. "So.. about that biopsy.." _Thwack._ She didn't even have a file this time, just her bare wrists hitting the solid surface of her desk.

"You are _such_ an ass." She spoke incredulously and was somewhat appeased when he winced, but not nearly enough.

"I figured you needed time-"

"Ass."

"It's not like you called me-"

"_Ass!_" Her voice rose in accordance with the defensiveness in his own.

"Seriously – why would you need me hanging around anyway?" He shrugged, but she could read the confidence in his stance. The way he gripped his cane and stood with his hips cocked out to the side, and the light in his eyes. She stood up, walking around and stalked toward him.

"Oh I don't know, maybe to be a friend, or a decent human being or for company. Or maybe to be there when I went to my OB's yesterday and found out if I was _pregnant_ or not!!" She jabbed his shoulder as she stalked toward him and he stumbled back unsure what to do in this situation. She had finally pushed him not only to the door, but out of it as well, reaching around him and yanking it open before shoving it closed in his surprised face. Locking it and leaning against the glass, her chest heaving in anger she yanked on the cord that pulled the blinds shut, effectively shutting him out.

* * *

_Crap._ He knew he shouldn't have listened to Wilson about the whole two week thing. "So.. that went well." Wilson spoke from beside him, clearly having decided to wait around for him. House glared at him before stalking toward the elevators. She wouldn't appreciate him coming back just right now – but it didn't mean he was giving up. "So what now Don Juan?" Wilson spoke in a dry tone as they boarded the elevator. House thought furiously for a moment, his mind racing across all the possible outcomes. The elevator halted on their floor before he spoke.

"Now I send her something. To apologize. And in congratulations." He threw over his shoulder as Wilson followed him to his office, staring in amazement.

"For what? Finally throwing you out on your ass?"

"No." House spoke in a deliberately slow tone. "For the baby. We're having a baby." He grinned, as the thought washed over him, and then he sank into his chair.

"You don't know that-"

"She's pissed because I wasn't there. If it failed, she would have been annoyed but would have sought me out to let me know. Keeping the news that she actually is pregnant was much more damaging. For future use." Wilson just shook his head.

"If I were you, I would just stick to the apology." He stepped out of the office and House waved at him dismissively, a smile growing on his face. Damn. She was totally pregnant. Which was a great thing – it would be much easier to appeal to her now that she was genetically and hormonally inclined toward him. He bounced his cane off the floor a few times with a smile before he glanced around suspiciously to see if anyone was watching. Seeing that the coast was clear, he leaned back in his chair, picking up the phone as the smile returned.

* * *

She had left. She still had two meetings today, and a quarterly report to work on, but she had just.. left. She was sitting in her car, and she didn't know who had been more shocked when she had strode out of her office after making sure that he was gone, and announced she was taking a personal day. A personal day. She had _never_ taken a personal day. Ever. Brenda had stammered and agreed to cancel the meetings, while watching in wonder as she actually exited the building. Once she had reached her car, however, she faltered. She couldn't go home – once he knew she was gone it would be the first place he checked. And she had no doubt he would check. It wasn't in his nature to leave things alone. _Unless, of course, he slept with them._

She rested her head against the wheel. God, even her thoughts were snide. Turning the key in the ignition, she just drove, away from Princeton, away from her house, away from the hospital. Her cell phone was on the seat next to her – she couldn't very well leave it, but she could ignore it. Brenda would call if there was an emergency. She merged onto the 295 and kept going. After a while she fiddled with the radio, finding a good station and drove mindlessly. She just need to put some space between them. Her and House. Her and the hospital. Her and reality. A hand went to her stomach and she smiled. She just needed.. a moment.

She drove all the way to the Jersey shoreline and back again before she felt sufficiently calm enough to go home. She had been in the car for hours, and she was stiff as she stood slowly after exiting her car and heading to her house. She was also starving. When she got to the door however, she froze, wanting to turn and run. There was a piece of paper taped to the door, with the words 'I'm Sorry' scrawled across it. She glanced around, but saw no other sign of House, so she unlocked her door with a sigh, pulling the paper off and shutting the door tiredly. When she leaned back against it, she heard a rustling sound. Turning she saw another note that said 'Really, really sorry.' She sighed, kicking off her shoes and looked down at the two pieces of paper in her hands, seriously considering just ripping them up.

It was then she notice the flowers to her left. They were sitting on the table in her foyer – a vase of pale pink tulips, with another note propped against them. She took a moment to finger the soft petals, before picking up the third note. 'I wouldn't if I were you – who knows when you'll have evidence of me apologizing again?' She fought not to smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched and she sighed. He was so impossible to hate at times. And so easy to hate the rest of it. She steeled her resolve. She was still pissed. She had a right to be. Stepping silently into her hall she glanced into the empty living room and sighed in relief. When she glanced into her dining room though, she gasped. The table was set with a variety of things, most of them laughable. There were bowls upon bowls of ice cream, and a jar of pickles next to them. There were chips, and fries and a variety of other salty food. Next to those were various Mexican dishes, some hot wings and finally an entire section devoted to chocolate. In the middle was another note. 'Did I mention the really sorry part?'

She laughed slightly in the back of her throat. He knew- of course he knew, he was House. If he hadn't figured it out right away he would have probably threatened her OB until the poor woman cracked. "Really, really, _really_ sorry." His voice was behind her and she jumped slightly, turning to see him leaning in the doorway. "Last and possibly the only time you'll hear me say it though." He shrugged, walking slowly toward her, his eyes studying her as if to test the degree of murderous intent there. He paused a few inches from her and she tried to hold onto her anger, but it was slipping away so fast it was like trying to hold sand.

"Just so you know, if there was no chocolate on this table, I would be beating you to death right now." She glared at him, but it ended up being more of a weak squint than anything else.

"Of course, I considered lollipops too- but I didn't think I should add in _my_ cravings – this was kind of about you." He came closer and she leaned against the edge of the table.

"How did you get it all here?"

"Magic." He held up a hand with a flourish and she laughed before her expression became sober again.

"This only works once, got it? Do not- and I mean _do not_ piss me off again. I can't do this- I don't want to do this without you. You promised." His face grew thoughtful as she spoke and he nodded solemnly.

"I thought it was-" He paused, apparently searching for the correct words. Which meant he was about to lie to her without lying. "The best thing. For you. I didn't- it won't happen again." She looked at him, knowing he wasn't telling her the whole truth, but also knowing it was quite a lie. Half a truth was better than none, right? _Sure just like the half a life you're getting._

"We're having a baby." She had to say it out loud, for him, and for it to fully sink in. "That's crazy, right? Oh my God, a baby." He grasped her elbows and she shivered at the contact, but allowed him to lower her into a chair. He pulled out another one, and pushed it in front of her, before settling in it himself, hooking his cane over the table edge.

"Relax. We have nine months to freak out about the whole thing." She shot a glare at him, her hands gripping the arm rests tightly.

"Easy for you to say. All you have to do is get food-"

"And put up with you when no one else will. That's a pain in the ass, right there. Plus you'll probably get fat... er, and that's bound to be a drag." She laughed out loud. Leaning forward, she rested her head in her hands for a moment. It was a relief and a disappointment that he was so clearly trying to put them back on their familiar footing. She didn't want familiar. But then she felt his hands at the back of her neck, not moving but just resting against the skin there, and she leaned into the touch. She frowned, thinking about the baby. Her child deserved everything in this world she could give him. Love. A happy home. Two parents. And if she had to fight House to get her baby all of that, she would. It would be for his own good anyway. She expelled the breath she had been holding, feeling the tension drain out of her as she did so. She just wouldn't settle for half a life. She was Lisa Cuddy- second in her class, she had gone to Harvard Medical, bought a house at 27, became Dean of Medicine at 35, when other people she had graduated with were just becoming know for their speciality. She wanted something, she worked damn hard to get it, and she had decided that the man in front of her was no different.

All she needed was a plan.


	9. Lose This Skin

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Sorry about the delay, but I changed my mind halfway through and had to re-write half this chapter. Thanks once again for all the reviews, they are my crack, seriously. I also wanted to say that the whole Lola/Steve choice was merely about plot choice - not the sex of the baby in the story. Some of you seemed confused. Baby's sex is still up in the air, because I haven't decided yet.

* * *

He ran a hand over his face, staring at the walls around him in distaste. Who the hell painted these offices anyway? Green. He hated green, and it in no way made patients – not that any usually made it in here – feel calmer or promoted inner growth or any of the crap the decorator probably thought it had. He bounced his ball hard off the floor, watching as it ricocheted off the wall before landing back with him. It was Saturday, and he hated working Saturdays. Not just because it went against all natural laws of the universe, but because it meant someone was dying and he didn't know why. If he knew why, he'd be at home watching reruns of General Hospital on Soapnet while the ducklings treated the patient. He gripped the ball tightly, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes while his mind raced ahead of itself. The sound of something being placed on the desk made him turn his head. 

He blinked at the coffee sitting there, grateful he was sitting already because of what was behind it. Lisa stood there, in the tightest pair of jeans he had ever seen, and a low cut black sweater. He blinked again, wondering where the hell Cuddy was, and what she did with her. "Cof-fee" She spoke slowly, pushing the cup toward him across the desk as she did.

"I know that." He snapped, pulling his feet off the desk and sitting forward with a thud. She just arched a brow at him. "Thanks." He muttered and she laughed.

"Don't. I bought it by accident. Forgot. No more coffee for me." She sighed and he took the cup making a show of the first sip. She glared at him and he chuckled.

"What the hell are you wearing?" The question slipped out before he could stop it – she had caught him early, and working on very little sleep. A self satisfied smile crossed her face and he kicked himself internally for noticing. Although with how low cut that top was, how could he_ not_ notice?

"Clothes."

"_Jeans_." He stressed. "At work. Which is highly un-Cuddy like."

She shrugged, leafing through the files on his desk, making no attempt to do it secretively. "Must be your DNA affecting me already." He simply looked at her and she rolled her eyes. "It's _Saturday_ House, no meetings, nothing for me to do all day but paperwork. And I may as well wear these as much as possible now, because I figure I won't be able to soon."

"Well, that is a shame." he grinned, satisfied that she was just getting her kicks out before she couldn't fit into anything, and not waging a silent war to kill him. He took another deep drink of the coffee and leaned against the edge of his desk, his mind now free to return to the problem at hand. His patient.

"That bad? Where's the file?" Her voice was soft and he tossed it across the desk at her. He didn't really think she could offer any insight, but it was oddly comforting having her there while he thought. She glanced through it, not speaking for a few moments. When she looked up, she was chewing her lip thoughtfully and he forced his eyes away to the wall again. Stupid green. "Where are the kids?"

"Getting another MRI done." He responded promptly and she frowned across at him.

"_Another_ MRI? What's wrong with the first one?" She stood up, unfolding her legs from under her and bringing the file back to him. He shrugged in reply.

"Nothing happened." She frowned in confusion and he chuckled. "She made it through the MRI fine. Which sucks. I don't know if you've noticed but our MRI has quite a rep. Bad things usually happen in there, which are good things for me because it gives me another symptom to work with."

"You're kidding me. You're wasting money and time getting her another MRI just because she didn't stroke out or whatever during the first one." Her voice was exasperated and she hit him across the head with the file. "Do you have any _idea_ how much it costs to run that damn machine once. Or the fact that her insurance isn't going to pay for it a second time without any good reason? Or maybe that there are a _thousand_ other sick people who aren't your patients that need that damn machine?" She was hitting her stride now, her eyes flashing and her chest heaving as she bordered on shouting. "Dammit House, why do you have to be so damn-"

"Good at what I do?" He grinned, grabbing his cane and standing so he could get a better view of all the heaving cleavage.

"Irritating. I swear sometimes you do this shit on purpose just to piss me off." She shook her head in anger and he leaned forward, his eyes lingering along her neckline. She shoved his shoulder, forcing him back. "Stop that!" She hissed.

"Why?"

"Because it looks like- you're looking and I-"

"Frankly it would look odd if I _didn't_ stare at the girls. Seriously." He grinned as she sighed and folded her arms across her chest, which only created a better view really. "And of course I piss you off on purpose. It's fun, and you look hot when you're pissed. Like you're gonna take me out back and spank me at any given moment."

"You are an ass. You cannot just do something because of a superstition. It's not a medically relevant reason for using that MRI. How are you supposed to see what's wrong with her if you didn't see it the first time?" Her tone was frustrated and she was standing with a hip cocked to the side as she glared at him, but he wasn't paying any attention as she spoke. His mind was in overdrive, spurned into action by her words and driving forward until everything clicked.

"You are a genius." He grabbed her shoulders briefly and she stumbled toward him but he let her go and started out of the door before she made contact. "Thank you!" He was jabbing the elevator button and boarding it before she even stepped out of his office.

* * *

She shuffled the files in front of her, wondering if they would look better if she color coded them. She sighed softly. They didn't look any more appealing now than they had fifteen minutes ago. She frowned down at them. Never in her life had she felt such an apathy toward work. Usually she loved her work, or hated it, but she always managed to use the hate or love to push through it. Today she just wanted to say screw it. She threw her pen on her desktop with a sigh. 

The plan was going well so far, she thought. It was subtle, but with House it almost had to be. Any more noticeable than subtle and he would have it figured out. Mostly she just planned on using her assets while she could. She smiled slightly, remembering his reaction that morning. Between that and the fact that she was touching him more now- never anything that was inappropriate, but definitely noticeable. They were still spending a lot of time together, he seemed to be around more since they had the blow out. He would bring food, or make her go to his place. Sometimes he just showed up unannounced at her door in the evenings, just to keep her company. He had even come with her to her last appointment at the OB's. Which had been.. _interesting_ to say the least.

She was just about six weeks along now, and trying everything she could to remain calm. She had lost the last one at seven weeks, and she often felt the urge to hyperventilate at any given moment. She took a deep breath, rolling her neck as she breathed it out. She hadn't gotten sick once, but she wasn't really questioning any lack of morning sickness. Rather she was just thankful that she wasn't making any tell tale trips to the bathroom during work. She glanced down and frowned. In fact the only outward sign she was pregnant at all was the fact that her breasts had increased slightly. Greg said it was the best symptom to have, and she usually rolled her eyes while secretly pleased he was paying attention. He always paid attention to her chest, but if he noticed the increase on his own, he was paying very _close_ attention.

She laid her head on her desk, folding her arms under it on her lap. She had overslept this morning – which was happening more often, and she didn't know what the hell had possessed her to come in to work today. Well, she knew what had made her come in, but it seemed like a waste right now. She lay there in the silence the desk top cool against her skin and only the hum of her computer breaking the hush. It was so quiet she heard his steps before he ever actually opened the door, but she didn't move.

"Well you look like you _really_ want to be here." His tone was dripping sarcasm and she rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see it. "Cuddy?" He paused at her lack of reaction and she closed her eyes tiredly. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." She mumbled back. A moment later his hand was resting on the small of her back and he was leaning over her, his elbow placed on the desk for support.

"You don't _look_ fine." She shrugged, pushing herself up into a sitting position and turning toward him. Pushing her chair back a bit she leaned toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. "See? That is not 'fine' Cuddy behavior." She inhaled deeply and cursed her body chemistry inwardly. It was a bad sign when the mere smell of him was making her hands twitch from want.

"Is it fine Lisa behavior?" She mumbled out tiredly. Without waiting for a response she sighed heavily and stood up, shoving her feet back into her high heels. He stood with her, putting a hand at her elbow. Even in heels he still towered over her, and she smiled slightly. She had always liked tall men. "What happened with the patient?"

"Figured it out. She's being treated and should be fine in a few weeks." He answered and she smiled briefly.

"I'm still pissed about the MRI." She narrowed her eyes and he did the same.

"Pissed enough to not invite me over?" He put on a disaffected air as he spoke but his eyes slid toward her and she laughed.

"Well, then I'd never see you. And that would be bad." She was walking over to her coat rack where her purse was hung. Slinging it over her shoulder, she nearly tripped when she turned and he was barely an inch or two behind her.

He caught her easily, his hand automatically going to her waist to stabilize her. "Would it?" She blinked in confusion at the seemingly disconnected question. "Would it be bad? Never seeing me." Her breath hitched and she swayed closer to him, almost as though a magnetic field had come into play, and she couldn't resist the pull.

"Yes. We're friends, right?" She was trying desperately to keep her voice from sounding breathy and it must have worked because he pulled back slightly and nodded. She felt the air rush over his skin in place of where his body heat had been and she wanted to almost moan at the loss of it. Her only other sign of pregnancy that she could discern was the fact that her hormones were amping her libido like hell.

She could feel her skin tingle from the loss of proximity and she frowned slightly. Subtle. She was being subtle. Subtle did not include jumping him in her office. Taking a deep breath she stepped back, increasing the distance and hopefully weakening any reaction she was having. _What's really so wrong with the jumping him plan? Works for me. _She sighed heavily, and didn't notice his eyes following the movement. Slowly she recounted the reasons why subtle was the plan. One – he would be suspicious if she suddenly started jumping it. He'd either attribute it to the hormones, or worse think it was just sex. It wasn't. If she wanted just sex – well, she'd have it. Two – iot had to be his idea. If she came on to him first, she wouldn't be assured of the seriousness of the situation. She needed him to convince her why they should resume any relations. Right?

She noted the silence that hung in the air, like a thick blanket hushing any outside sounds. She laughed nervously, running a hand through her hair, not unaware that doing so pulled her sweater against her chest. She was also aware of his eyes watching intently. "You are never this quiet for this long." she spoke in a dry tone and his eyes snapped up to hers.

"Sometimes I am. Sometimes I can be silent for up to two hours at a time." His voice was low and carried an underlying sexual tension. She knew he could be quiet – when he needed to. When he was concentrating. On work, or.. other things. She smiled slightly.

"I know." The words hung in the air, almost a physical presence that needed to be shook off. She shivered and cursed out loud unknowingly. She was literally feet from him, but she could _feel_ him next to her. _Damn hormones. Damn_.

"Language Lisa." He reproved gently and she looked up in confusion.

"Did I say that out loud?" She flushed slightly and he nodded. "Sorry. Just tired. I need to.. go."

"Right. Did you want to be alone tonight? Because I can-"

"No!" Her voice was unnaturally high and sharp, making even her cringe. _Shit_. "No." She spoke more calmly this time, and smiling. "I'm tired, but not in a 'I need to sleep' kind of way. More just a 'I need to lay down' way." He rose his brows suggestively at that and she rolled her eyes. "Just follow me home, Greg." She started out the door, walking slightly ahead of him as she dug in her bag for her keys.

"In those jeans? I'll follow you anywhere."

* * *

She was such a liar. He glanced down at the woman currently draped across him, not that he was complaining. She had laid down on the sofa five minutes into the very bad movie he was being forced to endure because he didn't want to wake her. He had told her to move up and put her head in his lap, and she had glared at him. After assuring her he didn't mean it in that way, she had agreed and rested her head against his left thigh, her hair tickling the hand that he had moved to her shoulder. Physical contact was tricky with them. On one hand, she seemed to be closer, all the time now. Every time he turned around she was mere inches behind him. While on the other hand, his attempts to get her closer to him in more intimate ways, like this, didn't succeed all that often. She was purposely keeping distance between them, which meant that his plan was failing miserably. 

In fact, if anyone was being driven crazy with lusting, it sure as hell didn't seem to be her. Outside of a few moments, she seemed to be fine. Impervious to his almost constant presence. He watched her face, which was turned into his waist now. After she had fallen asleep forty minutes ago, she had rolled, curving a hand around his waist and burying her face by his stomach. He couldn't feel his left leg, but he figured it was a small price to pay. She was warm and her position was causing her breasts to almost fall out of her top. No, all in all, a numb leg was a dirt cheap price for the show he was getting. His hand was still tangled in her hair, and he studied it silently, finally giving up any pretense of caring about the movie on screen. She shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent and he grabbed the remote on the table beside him, finally silencing Jack Black's bad Spanish accent.

Nudging her gently he waited until she was blinking in the dim light. Once she was awake, she blinked up at him before running a hand over her face. "I'm sorry. I said I wouldn't sleep-"

"Did you know that the amount of energy the female body exerts in the first three months of pregnancy is equivalent to what one man would exert climbing Mt. Everest?" She chuckled and he ran his hand down her back gently. "I think you're allowed to sleep. You've got lots to do in there."

"Yeah well, it still makes me bad company." She frowned, not making any attempt to move from her current position.

"Actually I kind of like you better this way. So quiet." She pinched him on his right side and he glared down at her. "Come on, time for bed for you." She nodded, pulling herself into a sitting position, but paused there, with her hands braced on either side of his legs. She was leaning close and he could smell her shampoo again. She was so close he could see ever line in her skin, but there were fewer than he liked to tease her about. All in all, she had aged remarkably, she was better looking now than she had been in school, and that was saying something. He thought it had to do with her eyes really. Back then she still had all of her strong features but innocent eyes and it seemed to clash. Now she was evenly matched, strong outside and in. His hand rose involuntarily, running down along her arm softly. Neither of them moved for a long moment, their eyes locked in a silent conversation. Only he felt like he didn't know what the subject was, and he had lost the lines he should be saying.

"Greg." His name came out as a breath and he tried desperately to not think about the last time she had said it that way, laying beside him as his hands stroked her skin and she arched back. "Stay." It was one word, barely audible, but he hard her and it was all that mattered. His hands reached up into her hair, delving in there and pulling her down toward him. It was one word – far from the explosion he had expected, but the word was more than enough to light the fuse leading to the TNT. As his mouth met hers, she sighed and melted into him and he wondered why the hell he hadn't just asked before. Just said the word and allowed them to do this again. His hands ached from missing the touch of her skin under them as he peeled the sweater over her head.

He wanted to rush and go slow, his hands at mercy to his warring interests as they slid along the soft skin of her back and felt her shiver in response. Her mouth opened under his, allowing him in and he forgot to breathe. When he did remember it was several moments later and her rested his head against hers feeling her breasts brush against his chest with each deep breath. "Are you sure?" He managed to croak out, but she was nodding, her hands busy lifting the hem of his tee shirt, and when he felt her hot skin contact his, he stopped wondering if this was hormones or something else entirely. There would be time enough to talk tomorrow.


	10. Guns on the Roof

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Sorry it's a shorter chapter, but I needed to get it out before continuing on with the plot. And if I had of added the next part at the end of this chapter it wouldn't have fit. shrugs Thanks for the reviews as usual, I enjoy the high. Helps the muse, lol.

* * *

He looked good in the early morning light, at least she thought so. He also looked well rested, which was something that he hadn't looked for a while. The early spring sunshine, a pale blue light streaked with yellow was lighting the room, stretching it's hands across her bed and his skin. She had woken a half hour ago – earlier than normal, but then she wasn't quite accustomed to not having her whole bed to herself. Normally in the early hours she would roll over and hug one of her pillows, deep thick down filled things that she had too many of on her bed. She loved them though and slept with as many as possible. This morning she had rolled over and encountered warm skin to hug instead of down pillow. She couldn't say she really minded.

He was still asleep, mostly because only insane women who liked to sit and analyze every little thing the morning after would actually be awake this early on a Sunday. She bit her lip thoughtfully as her mind wandered. It had been perfect, without words, and he had filled that aching void he had left within her. None of this surprised her, but it still left the question of 'what happens now' hovering in the air above the bed, practically a third person she had slept with. She laid her head back down on his chest. She was on his left side, so she could hear the echo of his heart in her ear. It was oddly comforting, just to lay there and listen to the sound of his heart. She never wanted him to wake up- and she wanted to wake him and tell him what a beautiful sound it was. His breathing pattern changed and she knew the choice had been taken away from her anyway. So typical of him.

His hand slid up her back to rest at the nape of her neck as his fingers tickled her hair. He didn't speak right away and she was grateful for that small moment in which she could lay still and feel him against her peacefully. After the moment was over however, he again took the choice of silence versus needed conversation away. "What's it saying?" His voice was rough and she was suddenly reminded of their conversation about his stalker girl. _All I heard was Greg House, Greg House, Greg House._ She had been amused at the time – it was hard to take a barely legal girl seriously. She listened closely to his heartbeat, but all she could hear was the sound of his valves closing in a soothing sequence.

"It's not speaking to me." She finally answered after listening for a moment.

"How rude, did you insult it?" She laughed into his chest, her lips brushing the skin there subtly before she pulled her head back to lay it on one of her many pillows. She could see his eyes that way- and she needed to be able to read him. Right now they were an odd mixture of amusement, seriousness and what look a little like disappointment. She stared into the depths searching for something more or less, and he leaned forward pressing his lips to hers softly.

She smiled, because it wasn't a kiss that was a prelude to sex, it wasn't even really a good morning kiss either. It was just the briefest brush of lips, just his way of letting her know he was still here. "Greg-"

He sighed dramatically, flopping back down against the mattress and flinging an arm over his head. "Can I have drugs before you finish that delightful sentence, which I'm sure will consist of several things I have no desire to talk about?" He pouted over at her, and she chuckled, nodding. Getting out of bed, she shivered as the cold air hit her skin, still flushed from sleep and him. "Oh nice. Looks like the girls think it's cold out this morning." His voice was teasing, but she ignored him as her eyes searched the room for his jacket. "It's in the living room." he pointed out helpfully and she rolled her eyes, grabbing her robe from her bedroom door and wrapping it around herself before exiting the room to the echo of his voice. "That better be off again when you get back here!"

She took the time to brush her teeth quickly and start coffee before going in search of his coat. By the time she found it - it had slid behind the sofa - and extracted the small orange bottle there was enough coffee for her to pour one cup cup and carry it all back down the hall to her bedroom. When she stepped in the room, he was frowning at her. "I said no robe." He glanced over as she placed coffee on his bedside table and shook out two pills for him, holding them out palm up. "But seeing as you come bearing caffeine and drugs.." He took her wrist in his fingers loosely and tugged her hand forward until her palm met his mouth as he swallowed the pills there. Her skin tingled from the contact and she cursed him for somehow making this erotic. She watched his throat as he swallowed expertly before she crawled back into the bed, going over him and burrowing under the covers before untying her robe and removing it again. She slipped over to him, pressing her now cool skin against his, absorbing his warmth. After she was warmer, he sat up slightly, and she sat up with him, leaning against her mountain of pillows.

She was silent for a few minutes, knowing that he was expecting her to start this conversation. After five minutes, he started fidgeting. Picking up his coffee cup, and putting it down again without drinking. After seven minutes he sighed and turned to look at her his face petulant. "Well?" She looked over at him wide eyed and he rolled his eyes, indicating that he knew it was yet another game. "Where's the questions? The what happens nows and the we need to _discuss_ this..s." She laughed at that before sitting up more comfortably and turning toward him, crossing her legs under her as she faced him.

"Would you answer them if I asked?" She spoke seriously and he looked at her with sarcasm written all over his face.

"Of course not – I'd make a joke and avoid answering at all costs, then you'll get mad and hit me because secretly it turns you on. And I'll let you, because it works for me too." He smirked for a moment and she sighed. "And then we'd have sex, because – let's face it – you can't keep your hands off of me. Finally something would distract us and you'd forget to ask for a day or so, and then we could do it all again."

"I'm not going to ask you Greg. I'm not going to ask you to define this, or make promises or put anything out there that will bite me in the ass later-" He glanced down at her words with a smile and she smacked him lightly. He feigned hurt, but once finished his theatrics, he fell silent, placing his hand on her knee and stroking the skin there lightly, waiting for her to finish. "I like you. You know that. We're friends, and we work great that way. We're lovers and we work even better that way. This is- it is whatever it is. And that's fine, I don't need you to call me your girlfriend, or tell me things you don't mean just so you can keep sleeping with me." She paused for a moment, finding it difficult to breathe suddenly. She did want him to say those things to her – but not hearing them hurt a hell of a lot less than hearing them and knowing they weren't true. "But this- whatever it is is short term. At the very least once the baby comes-" She paused again awkwardly before breathing deeply and forcing herself to continue. "Things will change. I know you don't get this but I love this baby so much, already. I want him to have everything, and if that means – if I can't count on- I'll do whatever it takes."

When she looked up he was watching her seriously, his eyes dark with some emotion she couldn't quite read. His hand moved from her knee, taking her hand instead, and lacing their fingers together. "Alright." He was quiet, and it was unusual for him, but she was grateful for it. The room seemed filled with unknown emotion that pulled and scraped at her already sensitive heart. "Lisa-" She held her breath, waiting for him to finish and bracing herself for any pain that might result from the charged atmosphere. "When- after the baby... maybe I'll be ready then. To talk." He seemed to be forcing the words out, and she winced as they fell awkwardly into the air. He shouldn't be promising this – she knew it and he knew it too. It was best if they worked off of a no promise policy. So she shook her head. In understanding or denial, she wasn't sure but he wasn't going to press her to find out. He couldn't sum up the words to reassure her – there were none he could say that wouldn't violate the rule she had just set out. So his hand stroked against her skin, and his lips met hers, speaking a language that neither of them could properly translate, but both were fluent in. In her mind she knew it wasn't enough, would never be enough but it was all she had. So she wound her shaking hands around him and held on.

* * *

He couldn't figure her out. He liked puzzles, he liked solving them, he liked the knowledge that often he could figure out what no one else could. What he didn't like was the unsolvable. He frowned as he sat there, looking out at the expanse of the city below, almost picturesque in the bright sunshine. That was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't like unsolvable things – he enjoyed the challenge. As long as he knew that eventually there was the slightest chance he would solve it. She had been the ultimate puzzle in that way. He thought it took him twenty years to figure her out, but he had figured her out. And then suddenly in the blink of an eye, she had changed and he found himself studying her in confusion. The pieces weren't supposed to change.

She hadn't brought any kind of serious conversation up again, and he didn't know if he was thankful or feeling slightly hollow and disappointed. Of course he hadn't wanted to answer the inevitable questions, but he had expected her to force him to. Force him to look at himself and what he thought he was doing. When she hadn't, he had felt cheated. Yet he also felt like he escaped something. It was an odd mixture. "Hiding?" Wilson's voice spoke from behind him, before he walked into his range of vision, leaning against the wall he was currently sitting on. "I don't get what the roof does for you-"

"Perspective." He answered simply, causing Wilson to look at him in confusion.

"You need perspective? I thought everything was going well." His voice was expectant, like a school teacher's or a mother's when they want the child to volunteer the information themselves. Which was stupid, because the tone alone forced the child, so it wasn't very voluntary anymore was it?

"It is. Better than well. She is completely alright with the just sex thing, and wants no commitment from me. Perfect." Even he could hear the bitter edge to his own voice, which probably meant it was really bitter sounding to others.

"And now that you have exactly what you want you what? Don't want it anymore?"

"I just didn't expect her to agree Jimmy. I thought she was scratch and bite for something serious or definable. I don't understand why she would agree." He mused out loud and Wilson sighed loudly.

"Are you mentally deranged? Seriously, it's like anytime you get within ten feet of something that could possibly make you happy for a while, your self destruct alarm starts going off. Just be happy House!" Wilson had stood and was pacing back and forth and flailing now as he watched in amusement.

"I don't want to screw it up – I just want to understand."

"Fine. Did it maybe occur to you that she's protecting herself?"

"From what?" He asked, confused. Wilson rolled his eyes before sitting back down at his feet.

"From _you_ moron." Wilson sighed again, and glared at him. "I know you can be a self absorbed bastard, but even you have to be aware that she cares about you."

He shook his head, in denial or disbelief – it didn't really matter. She didn't care about him, she had barely tolerated him a mere few months ago. "Are you high Jimmy? Have you been smoking the 'patients' weed again?" He held up his hands, creating quotes around the words he spoke. "She hated me at the beginning of this year- I drove her insane with Tritter and-"

"Yeah, insane with worry. And I'm sure she routinely lies to cover the asses of people she hates-"

"She just did that to-"

"You know what, it doesn't matter." Wilson cut him off with a hand gesture and his words. "You don't want to see it. So you won't. I can't make you – maybe she'll have better luck, but I seriously doubt it. But here's what I do know. You are being presented with a rare opportunity with Cuddy. It's called a second chance, maybe you've heard of them. Be careful."

"Why?" He bit out shortly. It amazed him that he always came to Wilson for his advice when it was usually delivered in a box full of morals wrapped in a pretty lecture. _You don't have anyone else._ Right.

"Because you were a wreck when Stacy left – and if things go bad- it'll be so much worse. There's a baby. And it's Cuddy." Wilson spoke as if this explained everything but he bristled at the implication.

"Lisa isn't Stacy."

"I know." Wilson spoke in a low voice and he looked back out to the view, hoping if he didn't respond, Wilson could take the hint and leave. "Just.. try to be happy. It doesn't hurt you know."

"Make up your mind Jimmy. I can't be happy and be careful all at once. You sit there and tell me all the ways it could go wrong and then tell me to go for it. Which one is it?" He swung his legs down. Even if Wilson left now, he wouldn't be able to enjoy the solitude. He needed to escape, and the roof would just echo with Wilson's words now.

"I'm just trying to-"

"Yeah well stop trying." He ground out, limping over to the door before exiting quickly. Wilson seemed to take the hint and didn't follow him, allowing him to catch the elevator alone and ride down to his office. It didn't matter anyway, Wilson might not have followed him, but his words hung around him echoing throughout his mind like a bad dream.


	11. Stop the World

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Again, I love the reviews, they are my crack. Updates probably won't be as quick from here on out, we're in the process of moving, so it's a bit hectic here. It won't be too bad, just probably every few days instead of every day. Sigh. My apologies to any Cameron lovers, I don't really like her, and that showed a bit in this chapter.

* * *

"Explain to me again why we're doing this?" 

"Because you got pissed and went to your appointment without me." He frowned , digging around in his bag, searching for something.

"I had every right to be pissed Greg. You assaulted a patient's family member-"

"Hey, he hit me first, and I needed a blood sample. It saved his little girl in the end-"

"Which I don't even find out from you – Chase has to tell me and then when I do find you-" She continued as if he hadn't spoken and he pulled his bandaged hand out of his bag, turning to roll his eyes.

"And here we come to the real reason you were annoyed." He muttered, but not quietly enough to escape her pointed glare.

"Cameron is playing doctor, and you were just-"

"Jealous?" He arched a brow, and she flushed with embarrassment or irritation, he couldn't quite tell. After she had found him in the exam room with Cameron she had spent a good ten minutes yelling at him about liability while Cameron looked on, shooting Cuddy small glares and him sympathetic glances. It only seemed to piss Cuddy off more, and when she had stalked out of the room in a huff, he hadn't seen her again until he showed up on her doorstep. He had tried to see her in her office, but Brenda had told him she was out on a 'personal errand'. Which was Cuddy code for the OB.

"I am so not jealous." She scoffed, giving what he assumed should have been a laugh but fell short and sounded more like choked rage.

"Oh sure you're not." He mocked her lightly, his hands finally finding the item he had been searching for. He pulled it out triumphantly, and waved it in front of her.

"That's hospital property." She stated flatly and he shrugged, limping over to where she was laying on the bed, arms crossed and still glaring. He smiled at her, feeling a wave of affection wash over him. Two and a half months they had been doing this. They usually only made it about a week without fighting over something, and this latest argument was only three days after the one previous. The fought about everything – work, living arrangements, which house to sleep at, what to eat for lunch. Generally they enjoyed it. He knew that she loved to yell at him, and he enjoyed coaxing her out of a bad mood just as much. Which was what had them here now. He had 'coaxed' her from being pissed at the front door, to moaning in bed, and now she had woken up only slightly irritated with him.

"Well d'uh." He finally responded to her accusation. "What did you think I was going to do, pull out my stethoscope? I can't hear on that, and you're the one who went without me, thus depriving me of hearing this." He adjusted the dial on the hand held Doppler before turning toward her. "Sheet down, Mommy."

Pushing the cotton past her hips she rolled her eyes as he placed the wand over her belly. She was thin – so the small round there was clearly visible now and he smiled slightly, looking at it. It still hit him at odd times. A baby. _His_ baby. In _there_. "Again, that was your fault. If you could have just kept your hands to yourself-"

"Or had Wilson take care of my hand.." He teased again, unable to resist. She heaved a disgusted sigh and he laughed softly. "Shh. How am I supposed to hear my prodigy if you keep talking?" He moved the wand over her abdomen, listening intently even though the sound was up so loud he could hear the hissing of air emitting from the machine. Finally he hit the right spot and instantly the sound filled the room, rapid and intense and breath taking. She was holding her breath now, and her eyes met his. It was soft and distorted, an odd whooshing sound that was barely recognizable as a human heart. But he listened carefully, identifying each portion of sound. _AV valve, semilunar valve. _One two. Each one was rapid, but combined into each other until it sounded less like a heart and more like music. "162." He glanced down at the display in his hand.

"It was-" Her voice was rough with emotion and he glanced back up at her, seeing the wonder reflected in her eyes. "It was 156 yesterday morning. Two weeks to go." She spoke softly and he nodded. Two weeks until she hit 16 weeks, the safe point. The point where miscarriage stopped being a one in four chance, and she could breathe easily again.

He had kept the wand in place, and the machine on, unwilling to stop the sound right now. It was reassuring, filling the room and reminding them of the third presence there. "We should keep this. Obstetrics would never miss it, they have a bazillion of these things."

"You're bringing it back. If you want one that bad, buy one. No stealing from the hospital." She spoke in a no nonsense tone, and he rolled his eyes, removing the wand and placing the machine back in his bag.

"_Now_ you tell me." He muttered and she sat up swinging her legs over the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Shower." She shouted from the hall, and he stood following her in. "Greg- you are so not-"

"Aww, you like it when I wash your back, admit it." He leered at her and she started the shower while rolling her eyes.

"Does this mean you'll actually be going to work on time?" She questioned, glancing over her shoulder at him archly.

"Have I _ever_ been late?" He asked in an offended tone, and his only answer was her muffled snort from under the water. Grinning, he climbed in after her.

* * *

She wanted to stab herself in the eye with her antique silver letter opener. It was conveniently sitting on her desk, inches away from her free hand. Normally, all her irritation would be directed on the man whose voice droned on in her ear, but since he wasn't physically here to stab, she was forced to contemplate self mutilation instead. Just when she was eying the letter opener with some serious interest, Wilson walked in to her office, and she mouthed a 'thank you'. "I'm sorry- I'll have to go over those numbers with you later, one of my doctor's needs a consult." She uttered the lie smoothly, finally extricating herself from the call and hanging up thankfully. "The CFO." She muttered and Wilson simply nodded in understanding. "Please tell me this is social." The look on his face told her otherwise and she felt the tension that had been sitting at the base of her skull all day, move up behind her eyes. 

"Sorry- but there's an issue. Susan's father is refusing surgery, and we need you to talk to him." She frowned slightly, her mind scrambling. _The father House hit yesterday- right._ Running a hand over her face as she felt the tension headache increase she sighed.

"Why are you here? She has HHT, not cancer." She glared across her desk surface at Wilson, who shrank back slightly.

"Well, I mean, House would have come, but the Dad sort of hit him and House hit a table- he's fine-" She stood quickly, too quickly since the room seemed to spin for a second as she heard Wilson's reassurances buzzing in her ears. Grasping the edge of her desk, she cursed inwardly. Could this day get worse? Sure it had started off great – a shared moment, and a shower, but it had gone downhill from there. She had discovered that none of her skirts could zip up all the way, so she had been forced to use a safety pin. She had a longer blouse on to cover this, but just in case, she had not removed her lab coat all day. The drive into work had been uneventful, but she had broken a heel on the stairs on her way to her board meeting, and was now wearing her spare pair, which while matching, were uncomfortable as hell. She had the financial officer breathing down her neck, and had been dealing with department complaints all morning. This department wanted this – why did that department get that? Dealing with department heads was often like dealing with children. Unfortunately for her, House wasn't the only difficult one. And now this.

"Fine. Fine. Where is the Dad?" She snapped, crossing the room and exiting her office. Her pager blared incessantly at her waist, but after seeing it was just a board member, she switched it to vibrate and jabbed the elevator button with Wilson close behind her.

"In House's office. Chase is trying to talk him into it." Wilson answered quickly, joining her in the elevator. Sighing she leaned against the wall, sagging momentarily and wishing she could kick her shoes off. "Bad day?" Wilson's voice was mild and understanding, which ironically grated on her already strained nerves. She knew he was trying to be helpful, but he wasn't helping. Swallowing her irritation she simply nodded, and he seemed to sense the danger and didn't press again.

Soon enough the doors slid open and she was stalking down the hall toward House's office, each step painful and furthering her opinion that today was just a monumentally bad day. When she entered the meeting room, Chase and Foreman were speaking quietly to a clearly agitated gentleman, while House was sitting in the corner, shouting across at them as Cameron hovered over him with a suture needle. He had a deep gash on the side of his head and she fought down any concern with a fresh surge of irritation as Cameron stroked his shoulder before continuing stitching. The father had started to yell back at House now, and Chase and Foreman stood uselessly watching. No one noticed her and Wilson enter. The noise was deafening and she felt the pressure behind her eyes mount.

"Everyone shut the hell up!" She shouted, finally gaining the attention of the room at large. There was a beat of silence, impressively enough, before House disregarded her previous order as usual.

"Tell this idiot he is killing his little girl-"

"On your say so. _First_ you said it was a liver problem , and then you said it was a bleeding problem. None of that worked, so why the _hell_ should I believe you-"

"Because we would have known sooner if you gave us a proper medical history-"

"How was I supposed to know it was relevant! You _hit_ me-"

"You hit me first. And I saved your daughter by hitting you. Which by the way, you're really screwing up with your refusal. Why don't you stop yelling at me, and go down and spend some quality time with her before she dies!" House was still sitting, wincing as he shouted from the pain in his head. She watched the back and forth for a moment before her eyes traveled, seeing the blood on the corner of the glass table. Vaguely she was aware of Cameron backing House up – _shocking_ – and Foreman trying to diffuse the situation. The noise level in the room had risen again and she looked around helplessly as the pain behind her eyes increased.

"Enough!" She was screaming now, and everyone looked at her once more. House opened his mouth again and she shot a glare at him. "You say one word and you will be miserable for the next few weeks." She ground out. To her shock, he closed it again, and sat back. Glancing at the father she sighed. "Mr. Turner, your daughter has a rare genetic disorder. HHT is often misdiagnosed, and the fact that it was caught at all is fortunate. I'm sure you've been told all this. I am also sure that you've been shown the blood tests, for both you and Susan, that confirm Dr. House's diagnosis. If she doesn't have surgery for the brain VHT, she will die. Is your daughter's life really worth less than your offended male pride?" Her tone was pure steel and she glared at the man before her in disgust. He stammered for a moment, before Chase held the consent form out to him helpfully and he signed it. Tossing a glare over his shoulder he went to exit the room, only stopping by her.

"She better be fine, or I swear I will sue this hospital." With that he stormed out of the room, quickly followed by Foreman and the consent form and she suppressed a sigh.

"Well, finally-"

"You shut the hell up!" She snapped in House's direction. "God- if you could have just explained to the man, or had me, or Chase, or Cameron explain to him that he needed to take that blood test- this could have been avoided. But no. He refused and you had to use your own 'method' to get the sample. Do you have any idea-" She was shouting, and the tension from her day seemed to be mounting as she spoke. She felt stretched too thin, like her skin was just barely covering her from imploding.

"Cuddy- he wouldn't have listened to you-"

"Did it ever occur to you that people refuse these things because it's _you_ asking?" She snapped back.

"Mr. Turner was being difficult, it wasn't House's fault-" Cameron started but Cuddy silenced her mid sentence with a glare.

"This really doesn't have anything to do with you." She ground out, her irritation with the girl still fresh. She would be loathe to admit Greg was right about her reaction to Cameron, but privately she knew he saw the truth.

"Cuddy-" House's tone was a warning, but Cameron bristled and cut him off.

"Of course it has to do with me. He's our patient and you always accuse House of being to blame when he's the one saving the patients. You have no right to judge when you barely doctor-"

She felt the tension snap in her and she stepped forward to cross the room, anger in her eyes. _How dare she judge my skills as a doctor. _ House stepped in between them and grasped her arms lightly. "Cuddy." His voice was a rebuke, but she ignored him, trying to get past him. "Lisa!" She looked up at him in shock, all anger draining out of her when her eyes met his. What on earth was wrong with her? She was going to what? Attack one of her employees? Once the anger left, so did all of her energy and she sagged into his grip. He pushed her down until she hit one of the chairs, before releasing her arms and pulling another chair over. "Get my bag." He ordered someone – she assumed it was Wilson, since the rest of the team minus Foreman were standing around, dumbstruck. "Are you alright?" He spoke softly to her, and she was aware of his hand on her wrist taking her pulse.

"Dizzy." She answered softly. Cameron just glared for a moment, before sitting down in another chair and watching the scene. She resisted the urge to smile slightly at the younger woman's expression, instead turning to face her. "I'm sorry. It's been a _really_ bad day-"

"It's fine." She responded stiffly, in a tone that indicated it really wasn't fine at all. Wilson had brought House his bag and he had pulled out a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope quickly. She blinked in amazement.

"Since when do you carry that-"

"Since a few months ago." His voice was light, and mildly annoyed but she heard the unspoken statement there. Since she had become pregnant. She smiled softly, and he bent his head, looking at his watch as he listened intently. When he was finished, he unbent and stared at her for a beat. "You're going home."

"I can't-"

"Your blood pressure is high and you and I both know it's from stress-"

"I'll have some tea and rest and be fine." She protested, but he ignored her and glanced at Chase.

"You'll take her home." He ordered roughly, and Chase stammered slightly in response.

"You are not my father, or my husband, or even my doctor Greg. I am_ not_ going home." She was annoyed now, and missed the shared look Cameron and Chase exchanged.

"You're really going to risk-" He paused for a moment, realizing they weren't alone. "Just because you're pissed at me. Again?" She felt the guilt rise and she glared at him harder. Dammit. He knew she wouldn't, not if he put it like that.

"Fine." She muttered out, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement caused her shirt to pull across her body and Chase's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" He blurted out and flushed when they turned as one to stare at him. "I mean-"

"Way to go Chase. Now you've pissed her off, really she's just been hitting the snack bar a bit too much-" House was cut off by her smacking his arm roughly.

"Oh seriously – I am a doctor despite you telling me I suck at it all the time. She's pregnant. Oh- congratulations?" Chase added the last part as an embarrassed afterthought, his voice rising as if he wasn't sure if they were in order or not. She sighed, letting her arms fall to the side.

"Thanks." She spoke dryly.

"Who's the father?" Cameron asked point blank and everyone turned to stare at her aghast. She shrugged defensively. "Well she's not seeing anyone-"

"That you know of." House cut across her tersely. "The baby is mine. Satisfied?" Chase made a shocked face from behind her and Wilson sighed softly by the door. She observed all of this, torn between being relieved it was finally out there and angry that he had just blurted it out like that.

She stood abruptly, glaring at the room at large, deciding she didn't really like anyone in it right now. "I'm going home. Tell Brenda to cancel my meetings." She spoke to Wilson, before glancing around the room which was still in silence from House's announcement. Not waiting to hear any responses she escaped through the door, thankfully slipping into the elevator when she reached it. As the doors slid shut, she refused to think about how it would all over the hospital tomorrow. She'd deal with that, well, tomorrow.


	12. Police and Thieves

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Thanks once again for the reviews. I probably won't be updating again until Wednesday or Thursday of next week, sadly. We're going away this weekend, and won't be back til Tuesday. So enjoy ! And review! It might make me write on actual paper, thus enabling a chapter early on Wednesday.

* * *

The house echoed oddly as he opened the door. It had started raining on his way home, and he shrugged his leather coat off, wishing he could somehow roll the chill off with it. There was no noise as he entered the hall, no muted tv, no hum of a lap top, only the muted ticking of the grandfather clock further down the hall. The rooms were draped in grey tones, unnaturally dark in the early evening because of the thick clouds rolling across the sky outside. His cane was barely a muted thump against the carpet as he stepped into the darkened bedroom.

She was curled up on her side, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and cradled to her face gently. He paused by the side of the bed, watching her face in the dim light. The lines in her skin were softened, and she really did seem to be almost glowing, the pale ivory of her skin tone standing out in the semi darkness of the room. He sighed softly and sat on the edge of the bed by her waist. She sighed softly and moved her face deeper into the tangle of blanket and hands cradling it. She looked peaceful, and he didn't want to wake her. Not just because she was more than likely pissed at him, but because he knew she needed the sleep.

"House?" Her voice was thick with sleep and he smiled down at her, even though he knew she couldn't see him yet. Or maybe he did it because she couldn't see him yet. The smile felt soft and adoring, and just plain alien on his features. She blinked slowly, reaching out a hand and turning on her bedside lamp, it's warm glow immediately cheering the room and chasing the expression from his face into a more solemn one. She ran a hand through her hair, looking at the dark and frowning. "What time is it?"

He cleared his throat slightly, wondering how it was that the simple sight of her face flushed from her nap and watching him with her soft gaze was enough to make it difficult for him to speak. "Just about quarter to six. Storm – it got dark early." His voice was gruff and she frowned at him, pulling herself up slightly so she was sitting next to him. She watched him silently and slowly the frown melted away into a softer smile.

"I'm not mad." Her words were whispered and he found himself looking at her in disbelief. She was always mad at him when he screwed up. It was what they did. Like a mating dance or a ritual. He did something he knew would piss her off, she yelled, stormed off and then forgave him. Granted this time he hadn't been trying to piss her off. He had just been trying to- to- protect her? He almost snorted at the thought of protecting Cuddy from Cameron of all people. He was fairly certain that Lisa could dispose of Cameron in less than five minutes and no one would ever find the body. He paused for a moment, contemplating the thought of a Cuddy/Cameron catfight, but then he felt her eyes on him, drawing him out of the fantasy.

"I'm speechless." He spoke finally, after a long pause that clearly indicated the redundancy of his statement.

"You just confirmed before Chase went crazy with rumors, or people started taking bets on who's baby I was having-"

"Think my odds would have been good?" he teased her gently and she chuckled.

"Probably. For some odd reason, the staff seem to think all that fighting was foreplay." He nodded in response, waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Well, they'd be right." He slid closer to her on the bed, allowing his cane to rest against the side as he braced both of his hands just past her waist and effectively putting himself in her personal space. She just smiled, raising a hand to the side of his face softly. It didn't move, just stayed there, a warm constant against his skin. When his eyes met hers he drew a sharp breath at the emotion buried there. They were soft, and tender. A look he had seen cross her face when she thought he wasn't looking and she would run a hand over her stomach and lean down, whispering words to the baby. It was a look that took his breath every time, so soft and yet filled with a painful tender longing. He knew when she spoke to the baby it was a longing for her safe arrival. But when she was looking at him with that same expression – well, he didn't know what that meant. Except that suddenly he couldn't seem to take in air. He didn't know what to say – and he wasn't sure what he had said a few seconds before, but it didn't seem to matter as he slid one hand up along the curve of her back to tangle in her hair. He pulled her closer and she came willingly, her eyes never leaving his, and the look never leaving her face. When he kissed her, even he was surprised by it. It was intense in a way he hadn't meant for it to be. Open and vulnerable, he felt as though she could see into his very soul and he struggled for control of the action, and the emotion alike. When her other hand came up to run along his unshaven jaw, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He wasn't even close to in control. He didn't think she was either, but he didn't seem to are as his other hand pulled at her hips, pressing her body closer to him.

"Greg." Her voice was soft, a pant that broke the silence in the room. His own breathing was ragged, like he couldn't quite remember how to do it. Or he was trying so hard to remember to breathe in and out, that it was making it difficult. His fingers trailed out of her hair and along her neck, dipping past her ear and smiling as she shivered in response.

"Mmm?" His hands were trailing along her shoulders now, slipping under the blanket and the strap of her tank top to trace along her clavicle lightly.

"I-" Her voice hitched on a sigh as his fingers ran along her ribs, until they reached the hemline of her shirt and found their way under that. His skin was still cold from riding the bike in the rain, and her sharp hiss of indrawn breath and the way she obviously responded seemed to distract her from whatever she was going to say. She simply shrugged, pulling him closer and laying back so that he was almost on top of her. She tugged his head back to hers, meeting his mouth again with a passion that might have surpassed the first kiss. She didn't attempt to speak again for a long while, the silence only punctuated with soft sighs and moans.

* * *

"You are just leaving me chunks. How is that fair?" He was irritated, glaring at her, but she just laughed at him, shoving the tortilla chip further under the salsa in an attempt to get the sauce.

"Well, one because I was the one who brought out the chips and salsa. And when I asked if you wanted any – you said you weren't in the mood. Then you proceed to eat half my chips and it's not my fault you started late-"

"It wouldn't be an issue if you would just eat the vegetables! They're good for you. Or so I've heard. Salsa is one of the only acceptable times to eat them if you ask me-"

"Whatever. I don't like the chunks and you bought the wrong kind last time." She pushed the bowl away, deciding that there was no sauce left now, only pieces of tomato and green pepper and onion. Pulling a face she moved the chip bag further across the coffee table as well.

"Hey! I'm still eating those! And how could I have bought the wrong kind? Unless they invented a bizarre pepper free salsa, they all have the chunks. Suck it up princess." He only laughed when she glared at him, leaning over and dragging the bag closer. Her legs were draped across his lap, making it a difficult task and she watched as he stretched to no avail, before finally sighing in disgust and grabbing his cane, using it to drag the bag closer.

"Whatever. I'm done now anyway. I just was in the mood for something salty."

"And here we go. Cravings, great. Just so you know, I am not getting up at 3 am for anything other than drugs. And I will not go on junk food runs unless I am guaranteed half of the haul." She grinned at him, startled by the thought. Cravings already. "And stop smiling. It's distracting me from the show."

"You're not even watching it!" She pointed out, laughing. "You just like the hot blonde chick with the gun."

"You think she's hot?" He turned to her with a handful of chips and a slight grin.

"Well, yeah. Look at her. She's cute. So what?"

"Oh that is _so _hot." He leaned closer and she shoved him away with a laugh.

"You're getting crumbs on me you pig. And despite what the male species thinks, saying another woman is hot does not make me a lesbian, sadly enough. Sorry. And while you may not care about what's happening on the show I do-"

"What for? It's a ridiculous show. This isn't even realistic, half of the crap is CGI and real crime scene people do not go around busting perps and leading raids."

"Exactly. That's why it's so great. They should bill this stuff like a comedy – it's the funniest shit on tv. Now shh, he's gonna do the thing." She watched the screen as the leading male in question donned glasses and made a dry remark that lead into the credits. She laughed slightly, reaching over into the bag absent mindedly and grabbing a chip, only to have her hand smacked.

"Now now Lisa. Chips go straight to the hips. Don't want you to be one of those women who gain eighty pounds during pregnancy and then blame it all on the baby and not on the fact that they're 'craving' double cheeseburgers all the time." She just glared at him, grinding her heels into his lap with a little more force than necessary.

"So what happened after I left today? Did Chase faint? Offer to deliver?" She deliberately grabbed another chip and ate it, even though she really hated them plain.

"What you really mean is did Cameron cry and throw herself at me, declaring that you were only trapping me with all the mind blowing sex, and despite it all, I still really loved her." He paused for effect and she glared at him. Even if she did really want to know Cameron's reaction, she sure as hell wasn't going to admit to it now. His grin was slightly wolfish as he waited for her to respond. She decided the best tact was to just ignore him, and turned her attention back to the screen where the CSI's where consulting with SWAT. Like that happened. "Oh fine. Be that way. It sadly wasn't anything like that. Although I have hope if I wander around looking like a man roped in by an 'unplanned pregnancy' long enough, my dream will come to fruition." Her foot twitched again, dangerously close to a sensitive area and he laughed, grabbing her ankle easily in one hand. "Okay! Okay!"

* * *

_He stared after her in the sudden echoing silence that invaded the room. A tiny part of him wanted to follow her, but he knew she was more than likely pissed at him as well, so he needed to give her time. Especially since it was the third time this week. Wilson was standing awkwardly by the door, his hands shoved into his pockets and Chase leaned against the window looking at his feet. Only Cameron was still staring at him, and incredulous look on her face. "That isn't funny." She stated, apparently deciding he was joking. He sighed heavily, tired of this situation. _

"_I wasn't aware anyone was laughing." He spoke tiredly, before standing up and running a hand over his face._

"_You're not serious." Again it was a statement from her, not a question and he felt an irritation rise._

"_Why not? I'm sorry – do you plan my social life? Do you somehow know who I sleep with and who I don't? If so – you suck at it. We've been seeing each for months. The baby is mine, and so is she. And now I'm done discussing this. Got it?" His tone was more harsh than was warranted, and the shock on her face reflected this, but he didn't stay to watch her reaction. Instead he walked through his office door, motioning for Wilson to follow before shutting the door and closing the blinds on their shocked faces._

"_Are you alright?" Wilson's voice was quiet in the room and he waved a hand in response._

"_Right now, yeah. When I get back to Cuddy's later.. not so sure."_

"_She's going to kill you." Wilson stated flatly and he shrugged._

"_Maybe, maybe not. She hasn't killed me yet. Besides, she was planning on telling everyone in two weeks anyway. It's not really my fault Chase is an idiot." He sat behind his desk sifting through the files there. Maybe if he did some paperwork she wouldn't hurt him too badly._

_Wilson sighed, watching him. "Fine. I'm going - but you know that this will be all over the hospital by tomorrow."_

"_We'll deal with that tomorrow." He spoke quietly, watching as Wilson nodded nervously before exiting his office. Once he had gone his hand reached for the comforting feel of the yellow bottle in his coat pocket. Flipping the lid open he took out one pill, staring at it on his palm for a moment. Better take two. He shook out another and swallowed them before pulling a face at his paper work. There was a lot left to do._

* * *

"Wait – you are so lying. There is no way you voluntarily did paperwork. Even if you did think I was pissed." She was laughing and he glared at her.

"I am not lying. I am merely embellishing the amount of paperwork there was on my desk." He sighed heavily, his fingers running along her ankle bones as she struggled to keep her smile down.

"Seriously-"

"It's for theatrical effect woman! How can I get to the juicy bits about Foreman busting in after discovering our illicit affair and declaring his undying love for me?" He shook his head slowly. "It's a bit creepy when a grown black man cries."

"I'm sure Wilson would take him off your hands." She shot him a grin and he chuckled as his hand slid further up her leg, tracing along her calf until he hit the underside of her knee. She froze, turning her eyes to him slowly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Testing my luck." He responded softly and she laughed, the sound low and delightfully sexy to his ears.

"Oh, really?" Her voice was husky as his hands slid up under the hem of the shirt she was wearing – the only thing she was wearing really. His hands gripped her hips and tugged her down toward him. "And how lucky do you think you are, Greg?"

"Luckier than I should be." he muttered, feeling her smile against his mouth briefly before her arms wound around his neck and the bag of chips fell unnoticed to the floor.


	13. I Fought the Law

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: So I'm late I know, and this isn't super long, I know. But I felt like I had to get this one out before I could move on. And it didn't want to come out. Well, that and I was distracted by the pretty pretty fanvids I'm making, They're shiny, and not finished, but I'll let you know when I'm done them. Also I found a ton of awesome Huddy fic over at LJ so I was busy reading that as well. Sigh.

* * *

She had retreated, waiting for the phone call. Sitting behind her big desk, her eyes flicking from her paperwork, to her computer, to the phone, and back to the paperwork. They had come in together this morning. If everyone was talking anyway – what was the point in hiding it now? The whispers had started almost before they had opened the big glass doors. Probably before they even got out of the car. She hadn't said much, and neither had he but he has given her hand a gentle squeeze before heading for the bank of elevators. It was unspoken that she would be the one to deal with this. All of it – the board, the staff. She hoped that he would at least keep his head down and do his damn work today- she didn't need to deal with hysterical patients wronged by cranky doctors on top of everything else.

So she sat, and waited, and watched them scurry past her big glass doors. They spoke in low whispers, not that she could hear them anyway but you could tell by the tilt of the head, the way they all averted their eyes while discussing her personal life. Sometimes she hated hospital staff. You'd think they had plenty to keep them occupied, what with saving lives and everything, but they were encased in this building for long shift hours and nothing to discuss but everyone around them. She sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw orange. When the phone rang, it didn't startle her, she didn't jump or flinch, she simply picked it up with an air of resignation. The Board would be meeting. Again she wasn't shocked by this – it was expected and as long as everything went as expected, she could handle it. She had a plan. And a contingency plan should something go wrong with the first plan. She had debated late last night about having a contingency contingency plan, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and worrying about all the ways this could go wrong, when House had finally grumbled at her top go to sleep and stop thinking. Surprisingly, she had listened.

She went over the check points in her head. There was no fraternization policy at the hospital. Although more and more hospitals were implementing them, PPTH hadn't as of yet, and therefor it couldn't be brought into play. Even if the board passed an anti fraternization policy now, they couldn't legitimately fire either of them for breaking a rule that didn't exist. Anyone who was involved before the policy would be exempt. She could easily recuse herself from any votes having to do with House. She could stop sitting in on review board meetings concerning his patients, granted this would be leaving a lot on Wilson's shoulders- but she didn't think he'd mind. Really the only legitimate objection they could have would be her having final say on House's procedures. However, she didn't think anyone else would volunteer for the job – and she knew House would be pissed if he had to go to someone else. So she just had to convince the board that she would remain as impartial as she'd ever been – no need for them to be aware of exactly how non impartial she'd been before – and everything should be fine.

Her hands found their way back up to her head, kneading the thin skin there as she frowned at the surface of her desk. It would be fine. She didn't lose fights – ever. Sighing heavily, she stood up slowly, pushing the ignored paperwork into a file folder and closing it before moving it from her desk to her file cabinet. Glancing around once, she squared her shoulders before striding out of the room with a renewed determination.

* * *

He was ignoring them on purpose. He had heard the nurses voices as soon as they had walked in that morning, hushed but with certain words discernible if you strained to hear. Which of course, he did. So he had walked into his office, clutching a file in one hand and throwing his bag in his chair before moving on to the next room. Conversation ceased abruptly when he entered. The voices had been low, and heated before he entered, and he somehow didn't think he was being paranoid in thinking they were discussing him. Or rather, he and Cuddy. "Oh don't stop on my account. I know you're all just dying for the details." He spoke loudly before turning his back on them and promptly ignoring any comments they made in response. Instead he stared at the white board before flipping open the chart in his hand and writing out symptoms. _Fever._

"I swear House- I didn't say a word to anyone-" Chase's voice stuttered out from behind him, and he continued writing, ignoring the young man's attempts to clear himself. _Vomiting_.

"Well it wasn't me either." Foreman was snapping now, and he continued writing slowly, listening to the fighting going on behind him. _Diarrhea – bloody._

"Why are you both looking at me?!" Cameron snapped. "I have better things to do than to gossip with nurses about his personal life!" He rolled his eyes as the squabbling broke out behind him. _Lethargy._ His writing was slow and deliberate, but still he didn't turn around.

"You are the one who's had the fangirl crush- maybe you were jealous-"

"And maybe you wanted him to think it was me so I could get fired." She snapped back at Chase, who sighed heavily in response.

"Why on earth would I want you fired? Foreman, sure – but you?"

"Hey! Why would you want me fired?" Foreman asked in an irritated tone.

"Well I don't like you. And don't act upset, you don't like me either." There was no response from Foreman, but he imagined the other man was shrugging and nodding, judging by Cameron's disgusted sigh. _Low urine output. _He scrawled heavily, causing the marker to squeak loudly against the white board and the conversation to stop at the table. _Skin rash. _

"We have a patient?" Cameron spoke timidly and he finally turned.

"Finally. Thank you for noticing. Now I know that it's hard to drag ourselves away from the rather scintillating matter at hand, but allow me to solve that for you." He paused dramatically, unhooking his cane from the top of the white board and moving toward the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. When he turned again, they were all silently waiting for whatever he would say next. "You're all idiots."

"Hey!"

"I am not an-"

"Shut up!" He spoke over Chase and Cameron and glared at Foreman who was crossing his arms in irritation. "You are all idiots. None of you spoke to anyone about it, but being idiots, I am sure you discussed it amongst yourselves in great detail while traversing the halls of the hospital, which you may or may not know are filled with nurses and doctors. Now I'm sure you all thought there was a bubble of silence around you, or you just didn't bother to think about it, because that would require time and discretion, two things you are all sorely lacking in. So the end result is it's all of your faults, and your idiots." He had moved back to the head of the table to stand by the white board and leaned against it. :Now what say we maybe.. I don't know... do our jobs? That's if you're done playing the finger pointing game." They all had the decency to look shamed, something he privately gave them marks for, but would never speak out loud. He had a bit of difficulty with that one himself – he only felt ashamed if he seriously hurt someone he cared about, and he somehow doubted any of them cared that much, so they clearly felt guilty out of habit. "Oh stop it. Cuddy will be speaking to the board today and we all know she can kick their asses to New York and back in less than thirty minutes. Differential people!"

* * *

He kneaded his neck, looking through the paperwork in front of him. He estimated that he could reasonably give them another hour or two to diagnose the case before the kid went into kidney failure. They stood around his desk anxiously, watching him go through the test results that confirmed his original suspicions, but the point of them being there – besides sorting his mail and doing the dirty work – was for them to learn, so he sat back with a thump. "Well?"

"White count is elevated and the platelet count is down." Cameron responded promptly.

"Thank you so much, but I can read Cameron." His voice was biting, partly due to the fact taht they were morons, but mostly due to the fact that he had seen Wilson scurrying past an hour and a half ago. The Board had been called.

"Combined with the elevated BUN and creatinine, it's clearly in the kidneys. The kid is going to go into renal failure-" Chase started to speak, only to be cut off by Foreman.

"Fever indicates infection- probably bacterial-"

"Fever doesn't always mean infection." Cameron snapped. "It could be-"

"Infection is the best possibility-"

"Both of you be quiet. It is not an infection. Move on." He snapped before grabbing his ball from it;'s resting place and rolling it back and forth between his hands, watching as it wrinkled the CBC in front of him.

"If you know what it is, why don't you just tell us?" Chase spoke in irritation. The other two silently backed him up, crossing their arms and looking down at him.

"Because if I gave you the answers every time how do you expect to find them on your own when Daddy isn't here? You've got an hour – maybe two before the kid's kidney fail and all kinds of bad things start happening."

"You'd kill a kid to teach us a lesson?" Cameron spoke in a shocked tone.

"No!" he snapped. "I'd treat him myself if you haven't figured it out. Now who wants a clue?" They all stared at him reluctantly and he rolled his eyes, leaning back and tossing the ball in the air. "Biopsy his kidneys before they fail. If you can't figure it out then – and you probably won't – do a stool culture. By the time you're done all that I'll have him started on treatment and you'd have all killed him if I weren't here." They departed with varying degrees of irritation, pushing out of his office door. He closed his eyes, but still heard her open the door. The smell of her shampoo gave her away and he sighed. "How'd it go?"

"As well as can be expected." She spoke softly. "I still have a job, you still have a job, and as long as there's no impropriety on the job-"

"So this means I'm not getting a blow job in my office?" He joked weakly, relief flooding through him and causing him to open his eyes and shift his chair back upright.

"No. But that has nothing to do with the board." She laughed, leaning her hip against the desk next to him, close enough to touch. So he did, his hand tracing along her waist and hip, skimming over the slight swell there, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. She was peering down at the file on his desk biting her lip in concentration as she read the file. The CBC and Chem 20 was in her hands, as well as the patient history. "When are you getting him started on dialysis?"

"Already told them twenty minutes ago." He responded softly, and she smiled down at him.

"Did you prescribe the corticosteriods at the same time?" He glanced up in surprise before nodding.

"Yeah – but the kids are still testing. How did you-" She tapped the history file in front of her and he nodded. "Yeah- kind of hard to miss."

"If you're looking at them all together." She shrugged and he pulled on her waist, sliding her to the centre of the desk. His fingers brushed against the safety pin she was using to hold her skirt together with a chuckle.

"Don't you think it's time to give in to the demands of the spawn and go buy bigger clothes?" She frowned down at him in irritation and he laughed again. "I hope they have a wide selection of low cut maternity tops, my days just wouldn't be the same without the girls."

"I'll try to accommodate you." She spoke dryly. "And I'm going shopping at lunch. Did you want me to speak to the parents before I leave?" Her demeanor turned serious and he stood up, his hand gripping her waist for support he didn't really need, but the excuse prolonged his contact with her so he moved slowly.

"You don't have to-"

"Yeah, I kind of do. Their kid has HUS and a 60 survival rate even with treatment. I'm just avoiding a lawsuit by having you not tell them."

"Hey- I can be sensitive."

"Name one time." She stepped out of his arms and walked toward the door laughing slightly as he thought. "You can't do it. Or if you can, the example sure as hell isn't going to involve two parents who made a mistake and may have killed their kid." He nodded in defeat, knowing she was right. He usually didn't really help in matters like these.

"Fine. But just so you know, I am firmly against maternity underwear. Ugh." he shuddered dramatically as she glared at him, hip coked to one side. "What? The low cut ones work just as well, is all I'm saying." She sighed before pulling the door open and stepping out of his office. With a distracted wave she started down the hall to the elevators, almost escaping but not before he hung his head out of his office door. "See you at home tonight sweetheart!" She rolled her eyes as the doors slid shut and he glanced at the few nurses milling around the hall. "She has to put up with me, I knocked her up." He grinned lewdly as they did their best to look shocked by the news, before scurrying to spread the latest tidbit of gossip.


	14. Pressure Drop

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

A/N: Oh time worn plot device, why have you snuck up on me? Oh I know why. House is being difficult. Typical. As usual, I love all reviews. Keep them coming.

* * *

He was there when she woke up – it was the middle of the night, she knew this because her she woke every night around two am, thanks to her recently squashed bladder. He never woke up usually, unless she woke him when she returned to bed. He wasn't in bed when she woke up, however. He was sitting in a chair by the bed, a large hand covering her now noticeable swell and speaking quietly. She didn't flinch, or let him know she was awake. He had been at work for close to thirty hours straight now – working on a case – and when she had spoken to him before she went to bed, he had sounded as frustrated as ever. She hadn't expected him here tonight. It could mean only one of two things. He had solved the case or the patient had died. Judging by the fact that he had opted to watch her sleep instead of crawling into bed with her, she guessed it was the latter.

His voice was soothing in the dark, and she fought to keep the smile off her face, because he would see that with his sharp eyes. He only ever did this at night. When she had first found out she was pregnant he had immediately declared that he wouldn't be talking to it until it was born, and there would be no flashcards or playing music for something that could barely hear vibration, let alone do anything other than develop properly. She had simply smiled, and said fine – but she had started talking to the baby before he could even possibly hear her. She didn't spend hours doing it – but occasionally – more now that she was almost six months along than in the earlier days – she would trail a hand across the swell there, secretly thrilled when she would feel a flutter of movement in response, and she would speak to him and tell him what she dreamt of for their future – all of theirs. House never did any of these things – but some nights, when he thought she was asleep, his hand would wrap around her non existent waist and he would whisper in the dark.

The first night she had been awake for it was two weeks ago. It was also the first time she felt the baby move, like a flutter of water tickling her insides. She didn't tell him then, but let him know the next morning. He was content at the news, knowing he wouldn't be able to feel it himself for a few weeks. She felt bad about that, but loved it at the same time. It was only a space of a few weeks when the movements were like a secret she shared with the baby. Something only they felt and knew. It also brought the fact home to her. She was pregnant. There was actually something growing in there and in a few short months she would be cradling her child. _Her child._ The thought always made her chest tighten and her throat close up with emotion. It was something she had given up hope for, and when she looked at Greg through her half closed eyes and thought about the miracle he had made possible, she felt as though she couldn't possibly carry this much love around with her and survive. It had to be fatal. It was so much love that it hurt her to think too long about it, she could only deal with brief spurts, so instead, she pushed the feeling away and concentrated on his voice, quite and strong in the dark room, and his hand, warm and comforting against her waist.

"Ultrasound's soon, are you ready yet girl? Daddy has a bet with Mommy – she thinks you're a boy, but I know better. Mommy is so sure of mother's intuition that she bet Daddy a whole week of clinic duty. So if you are a boy you need to suck those puppies up inside, that way I win anyway." She fought the urge to laugh at what he was saying, and the urge to kiss him senseless every time he said the word Daddy. "Besides, while I could easily handle a girl – you'd look just like her, all big blue eyes and brown hair – I don't think the world could handle another me." She could practically see his smirk from behind her closed lids. She heard him sigh and the mattress sank a bit as he leaned forward, placing his lips against the slight swell. At that moment she felt a strong kick and he pulled back, forgetting to be quiet for a moment. "Holy shit! Lisa!"

"No need to yell." She spoke with a smile, opening her eyes finally.

"I felt that!" A smile was crossing his face and she smiled back at him fully, shifting closer to the edge of the bed. He moved his hand higher, looking intently at her belly. "Do it again." He was back to whispering and after a few silent moments, she felt another movement and his eyes met hers. "I am so winning that bet. Only your daughter would kick me in the face the first time." She laughed out loud, moving to sit up and leaning on the edge of the bed.

"We'll find out soon enough. It's late-" she paused and saw the expression on his face fall for just a moment and she knew she was right earlier. She didn't offer him any of the platitudes that he so hated though, didn't tell him it would be alright, because she knew it wouldn't. Didn't tell him he did everything he could, because he already knew that he had and still it was never enough to chase the feeling away. "Come to bed." She spoke instead, her voice soft and he leaned forward, hands griping the edge of the mattress on either side of her. He pulled himself up, and her hands braced his waist as he got his bearing before he moved over to his side of the bed, limping without his cane. When he sank down to the side of the bed and shed his clothes, she rolled over, lifting the covers for him as he slid into the warmth she had created. They were silent for a moment as she lay beside him, belly just brushing his ribs.

"You know what a good name would be for a boy?"

"I thought you didn't think it was a boy." She spoke dryly, and he rolled to face her, his hands coming between them and gently brushing against the fabric of her nightgown.

"Because it's not- but it would almost be awesome if it was, because we could name him Maxwell." He paused, waiting for her to make the connection and when she did she chuckled.

"No."

"But we could get free-"

"No."

"Come on Cuddy-"

"I am not naming my child after coffee House. Go to sleep."

He was silent for a moment, and she closed her eyes again, hoping that like a child, he would do the same. "Max works for a boy and girl you know."

* * *

"It is not a glorious day, my friend? A glorious, clinic free day? In fact-"

"It's pouring outside, are you insane?" Wilson's voice was irritated as he looked up from his desk where he was writing in a chart. He walked over to the window of Wilson's office, where it was, in fact, raining heavily outside.

"Whatever. The best things happen in the rain anyway. The point is, that I was right, and she was wrong and we are having a little Maxwellina House – which means no clinic for me for a week. That's my girl." Wilson simply rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Mazel Tov. And Maxwellina?"

"Never mind. It worked better if she was a boy. You know – the coffee. Good to the last drop." He sat down heavily in the chair in front of Wilson's desk and smiled slightly.

"Wouldn't work. Cuddy is bound to at least hyphenate the names-"

"Nope. She hates that. She is insisting on Cuddy as a middle name, poor kid. But definitely just House."

"Really?" Wilson's tone was incredulous and he nodded smugly. It had shocked him too, when she had first mentioned it. He thought for sure their kid was going to end up a House-Cuddy because Lisa would never let his name be last. Surprisingly he hadn't cared. She could have said she was just going with Cuddy and he still wouldn't have cared. Apparently his fathers obsession with carrying on the House name hadn't extended to him – something he was grateful for. But Cuddy surprisingly was a traditionalist at heart – and had insisted on no hyphenations, just House.

"Really, really."

"You don't find that.. odd?" Wilson had put aside the file, along with any pretense he was working.

"Odd like out of character, or odd like a secret plot to get me to make her an honest woman?"

"Odd like if she wasn't serious about the two of you she wouldn't be doing that." Wilson spoke again, ignoring his comments. He shrugged in response, leaning his chin on his cane.

"Of course she's serious. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't slept alone for almost half a year now. Strange, I know – but there it is."

"You know what I _mean._" Wilson hissed the last word, like it was a state secret. He merely stared at him in response, purposefully looking confused. "God House- why do you make everything so difficult? She's serious. Seriously in lo-"

"And you know this how, exactly? Because she's giving the kid my name? Maybe she just wants my money-"

"She makes more than you."

"Oh that stings, man!" He spoke in a hurt tone, causing Wilson to roll his eyes in response.

"Why don't you even want to consider that she may actually have feelings for you? That you may actually be okay with that because you-"

"I do not." He snapped out, standing and gripping his cane tightly. Wilson didn't respond, just watched him with his best 'what the hell ever' face. "I don't. I just- she just- it's complicated." He didn't love her. It was convenient. If he loved her, it all suddenly meant something and everything he did was weighed down with expectations. He always failed to meet those.

"So if she say... left you. Right now. You'd be alright with that because it's just sex right?" Wilson's tone was smug, the way it got when he knew he was right and he was particularly enjoying nailing the fact home to him. He ignored him and exited his office. He ignored the way his ribs seemed two sizes too small when he allowed himself to think about what Wilson said. He ignored the small voice in his head, telling him that if he carried on with his denial, eventually she would want – _need_ – more and he would fail her and she would leave. It wouldn't be that difficult. Three words would buy him time – buy him insurance. They were just words, right? He could say them. Could he mean them, though?

* * *

She was not paying attention. Under her desk, her hands were curled protectively around her abdomen, and her mind was wandering ahead of the present moment. A girl. House had been as close to elated as she had ever seen him when her OB told them the news. She liked to imagine that it wasn't just the prospect of a clinic free week, either, but the thought of big blue eyes and long dark hair – ballet shoes and Barbie dolls and a Daddy's girl – that had brought the expression to his face. She would be small like her, or tall like her father. A flair for the dramatic, she smiled at the thought of a little girl employing House's tactics to get her way. Maybe she would be slightly more conniving like her, or maybe some dangerous combination of the two.

Her phone rang and she was drawn out of her thoughts, turning to look at it. Picking it up, she couldn't quite keep the smile out of her voice as she spoke. "Lisa Cuddy."

"What do you think of Bambi for a name? Oh the possibilities are endless. We could go with Candy or Carmen or-"

"You don't get a say in the name." She spoke dryly, while secretly pleased to hear his voice.

"That seems a bit mean." She could hear the childish pout in his voice and she shrugged even though he couldn't see it.

"Are you going to push her out for me? Because if so, then you can name her."

"Don't I get to contribute anything?"

"Yes. House." She hung up on him quickly, biting her lip with laughter and turning to her computer. A quick Google search alter and she was staring at a list of girl's names, and wondering how in the hell you could name someone when you didn't even know what they would be like. What if it didn't suit her? Her phone rang again, and she picked it up, not even managing a greeting before he spoke again.

"Fine. Can I change _my_ last name?"

"No."

"Can I help you pick? Or do you already have a name all lined up that you dreamt up while twelve and making Ken do naughty things to Barbie?" His tone was low and she laughed involuntarily, the chuckle escaping before she could stop it.

"No. I have some ... ideas. But nothing concrete." She spoke slowly. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Shouldn't you? Yet there you sit, day dreaming and looking up names -"

"House! You had better be in your office!" She sat up straighter, glaring out through the glass windows in suspicion.

"Of course I am. I just know you that well." She could hear the dull sound of rubber hitting a solid surface in the background. His ball.

"Do some work."

"I don't have a patient."

"Really? I have about thirty down here-"

"I won. No clinic." His voice was triumphant and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but I do have work to do. So unless you're gonna help me with mine-"

"Tell me the idea. For the name." He pressed, his tone curious.

"No."

"Come on – I'll come down and do clinic."

"No you won't." She scoffed disbelievingly. His chuckle slid along the line hitting her ear in a rumble of low sound and static.

"You're right I won't. Fine. Go work. But I reserve the right to torture it out of you at home. And by torture I mean do that thing with the-"

"Greg!" She hissed, cutting him off and causing him to laugh again. "I have to go work. Goodbye." She hung up again, pulling files toward her and trying to ignore the way her neck was flushing with a prickling heat. Her eyes strayed to the name she had clicked on that was written in a ridiculous pink text. _Don't they know green is the new pink? _Abigail – Father's joy. Hebrew. She clicked the screen off, before trying to concentrate of the files in front of her. Her phone rang and she laughed to herself , but the name on the blinking call display wasn't familiar. "Lisa Cuddy."

"Lisa? Hi- it's Stacy." She felt a rush of cold against her skin as she stared down at the phone in horror. Something usually not present in a phone call from a friend. "Is this a bad time?"


	15. Hateful

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Oh sure, I give you an extremely rare Sunday update, and all I get are reviews telling me I'm mean. Pshaw. Like I would make you all wait that long. Or let you suffer. Much. It's not like I didn't warn you Lola would get a little angsty. Thanks for all the reviews! We've matched my second highest rated story, we have about thirty to go to surpass the highest amount. You House fans gonna lie down and let the CI folks outshine you like that?!!

* * *

"Lisa." She felt suddenly useless, her grip on the phone loosening to the point that it almost slid out of her grip. "Lisa." Her heartbeat was thundering loudly in her ears, and she swallowed heavily for a moment. She did not want to be talking to Stacy Warner right now. Truth be told, even when they were friends, she hadn't wanted to be talking to Stacy. Stacy, even in the very beginning had gotten the idea that since she and Greg were old friends, that she needed to be friends with her too. Considering how she had felt about Greg at the time, it had taken all of her self control to actually be friendly toward the woman.

"My God Stacy- I- You- I'm sorry, I was just surprised to hear from you." _Since you left. And never called._ By some miracle she managed to keep any trace of anger out of her voice. Not that she was angry she left in the first place, the anger stemmed more from the fact that she was calling now. _Now._ Just when everything was getting on track. Her free hand let go of the file that had been held in a death grip and moved to cover the baby reflexively.

Stacy laughed nervously and the sound grated down the line toward her. "I know. I just- I thought it was better if I didn't. Call you. I mean – I was trying to cut all ties you know? To him, and- _shit_." Stacy's voice was hitching oddly as she spoke until it finally broke oddly on the last word. Her hand circled the baby protectively as the feeling of dread built up inside. "I need a favour."

Crap. The baby fluttered reassuringly against the palm of her hand and she paused in the middle of her building panic to smile down at herself. She knew this wasn't going to be good but she took a deep breath anyway, fighting the feeling of rising nausea. "What?" Her voice sounded almost calm, which was amazing really, since her body was anything but. Her pulse was pounding and her felt shaky with her nervousness. _It's just a phone call Lisa. She's not here. Just a phone call._

"I was wondering- oh God, I am so sorry-" Stacy's voice was breathy and she thought she sounded like she was holding back tears, but she pushed the though away ruthlessly. She didn't want to think that and feel a guilty sense of sympathy for her. "I was wondering if maybe somehow I could- my job – I need a job, Lisa." Stacy finally finished, mumbling the last part slightly and she drew in a sharp breath when she realized what Stacy was asking. _No. No way in hell. _

"Working here isn't the best way to cut all ties Stacy-" She spoke in an even tone, despite her violent reaction to the thought.

"I know. But- oh shit – I need to leave. Lisa – Mark – he-" She swallowed listening to Stacy's pause, wondering if something had happened to Mark. Maybe there had been a complication with his AIP-

"He left me." Stacy finished in a dull whisper and she frowned at the handset. Maybe he had discovered his wife was a- She bit her lip and tried to remain calm.

"I'm so sorry Stacy. I really thought-" Stacy laughed shortly, the sound harsh and foreign amongst the soft white noise of the connection.

"Yeah, well so did I."

"I'm really sorry Stacy- but I can't-"

"Why? Because of Greg? If you ask him – no wait. Just don't ask him Lisa. It's not his hospital, I know you need the help in the legal department." Stacy's voice grew more and more assured with each word and she felt her irritation rise. It was a lot to expect from a friend. Especially one who you were only friends with because you perceived a threat against your boyfriend. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It was a credo Stacy took to a whole other level.

"It has nothing to do with G-House." _Yeah right. _"We don't have an opening right now Stacy. You were replaced, did you think you wouldn't be?" _In more ways than one_. She fought to keep her thoughts under control and out of her tone. "I can't just invent a position for you-"

"I guess that only happens for Greg." Stacy's voice was bitter and she resisted the urge to slam the phone down.

"His position wasn't invented-" She spoke evenly, struggling to keep a neutral tone. "It's very common in European hospitals, and more American ones should be employing a Diagnostics department." She resisted the urge to haul out her statistical argument that she used on the board once each year during budget meetings. 60 of malpractice cases were due to misdiagnoses. But Stacy knew all of this – she had heard it several times already. "It's not the point anyway Stacy. Other than firing someone to move you in , I don't have a place here for you. I'm sorry. You could go do any kind of law. Litigation, cooperate-"

"I know." Stacy's voice was suddenly soft and contrite in her ear. "It's not your fault, I'm just really bitter here. I mean I gave up- for a man I thought would always be there and then suddenly he's just.. not. I don't know what went wrong." She listened carefully, stifling the urge to point out just about three million things Stacy could have done differently, including marrying someone she actually loved instead of someone who seemed like he was dependable. "I'm sorry I called – but I thought maybe.." Stacy's voice turned wistful and she closed her eyes against the sudden violent image of her throttling the life out of her. _You thought wrong, bitch_. "Whatever. You know, listen to me – I'm an awful friend. I call you and dump all my issues in your lap and I don't even ask how you are. It's been almost two years right?"

"I've been-" She faltered for a word that wouldn't draw suspicion. "Busy." The lie tripped off her tongue easily. Technically she had been busy, in the loosest sense of the word. "The hospital – you know." She laughed awkwardly, praying that the phone call would just end soon so she could go throw up. She took several deep breaths, trying to sooth her nerves and stomach.

"Yeah. Some things never change huh? Hospital always was your first priority." She felt a spike of anger at the words, especially considering Stacy had never really bothered to inquire about her so called priorities, but she remained silent. "Well listen, I've missed you. If I find something there- I'll call you. I mean, I'll call you either way – but you never know. If I find a job there, maybe we could do lunch."

"Sure." She spoke with a false cheer, as the nausea clawed it's way up her throat. "Listen Stacy – I'm really sorry but I have a board meeting in about ten minutes- I need to get upstairs-"

"Oh sure. No problem. I'll call you, alright?" She must have made some non committal noise, because Stacy was speaking again. "Alright, I'll talk to you soon Lisa. Bye." She mumbled out a farewell before dropping thew phone back into it's cradle and staring at it like it was a hot coal. Her mind was frantically scrambling ahead of her. What were the chances that Stacy would actually come back her? Really? She didn't grow up here – in fact she had only moved her in the first place because she had given House his job. The second time she came here was for Mark's sake – supposedly – so really there was no reason she would come back. Unless of course- Greg. But that wasn't very likely. Right? _Shit, Greg. _The hand cradling her belly tightened for a moment. Should she tell him?

"Crap, baby. Mommy shouldn't tell him right? It'll only upset him – or piss him off – but if she really does come here.." She trailed off uncertainly, both hands stroking along her stomach now. The baby rolled, and the feeling was reassuringly familiar, like the baby was trying to calm her down. "If she comes here and I don't tell him – that could be bad." She was a planner. A control freak. It was her nature, so she sat there thinking of every possible scenario. It all boiled down to one fact. She wasn't secure enough about him to tell him that Stacy was suddenly available. Sure from what she had gleaned from Wilson, Greg had told her to leave last time. But she was married then. And this was the _one_ woman he had loved. She swallowed heavily at the thought, blinking rapidly to stop the sting of tears. "I can't tell him. It's not like it's just me anymore- I have to think of you too." Her head was bent down as she spoke, and she tried to ignore her blurry vision. Suddenly she felt as if her office was too small, too close to his and she needed escape right now.

Standing, she strode quickly over to her coat tree, pulling her coat on and grabbing her purse that was hanging there. She passed her empty outer office – she still wasn't able to keep an assistant. Once in the clinic she motioned Brenda over. "I'm leaving early – not feeling very well. Can you cancel my appointments? Just reschedule them, please?" Her tone must have been more desperate than she thought, because Brenda agreed readily, not once pointing out that she was a nurse and not a secretary, and thus wasn't really required to re work her boss' schedule. She breathed out a sigh of relief as she exited the clinic, and then the hospital. Greg would be annoyed, but he would see her soon enough at home, and she needed the time to steel herself. If he saw her now, he would know something was up and he would settle in and pick and pick at her until he discovered it. It was safer if she just left.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Wilson's voice was at it's particular judgemental best, booming from the doorway where he stood, arms crossed.

"Making a rubber band ball." He answered promptly stretching another band over the ball in his hand and searching his drawers for more. "I have a ton of these things. What exactly do you use them for anyway? I mean, they could potentially be the most useless office supply-"

"Most people use them to gather things and hold them together. Such as pens, or a group of files. Other people play with them. Clearly though they are all missing out on their true purpose. To be wound into a giant ball." He glanced up at his friend, grinning in response.

"I know!" He gasped, throwing the ball on the floor and catching it. "I mean, look at how _bouncy_ they are!"

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Well I was bugging Cuddy but she stopped answering my calls two hours ago. I could have walked down and bugged her in person, but her office causes me to actually _enter_ the clinic and she'd totally take that as a sign that I'm relinquishing her from the terms of our bet." He bounced the ball again as he spoke, repeatedly bouncing it off the floor and catching it. "I even tried to bribe the kids into going for me, but they won't 'pass notes for me. It's not high school.' Foremen looked very scary when he said it too. He needs to get laid more."

"Wouldn't have mattered anyway." Wilson sank into the chair opposite his desk, deftly catching the ball when he bounced it his way, before throwing it back on an angle so it hit the floor, then the wall and went to him.

"Why?" He tossed it back, and they continued to play catch as Wilson turned his chair to face the wall for better angles.

"She left early. Didn't you know?" Wilson lobbed the ball at a particularly sharp angle, causing him to just barely catch it, stretched out to the right.

"Wait a minute. I could have sworn I just heard the words left and early in direct relation to her name. Which just isn't possible. Unless this is the twilight zone." He peered at Wilson suspiciously. "Are you involved in a deeply committed relationship?"

"No you are. And I thought she would have told you."

"Am not. And she didn't. Odd." he mused, rolling the ball between his fingers as he stared at the wall thoughtfully.

"Denial. And why is it odd? She's pregnant man, maybe she just wasn't feeling well." He sighed in disgust at Wilson's theory, shaking his head sadly.

"See this is your problem. You always underestimate the inner evil of Cuddy."

"Your girlfriend is evil?"

"Well d'uh- would I be with her if she wasn't? She wouldn't leave early unless she wanted to avoid something."

"Or someone. In fact – _you're _the only one who didn't know, which would mean she's avoiding you. What did you do this time?" Wilson grinned across at him and he glared back.

"I didn't do anything. Other than what I usually do anyway – and if she hasn't gotten pissed about that yet-"

"She's always pissed about your usual stuff." Wilson interrupted in an exasperated tone.

"Yes... but she's usually pissed in her usual 'I'll yell at you until I feel better' way. Not the 'I'll leave and hide' way. She hasn't been that pissed at me since-" He stopped for a moment, trying to remember the last time she had actively hidden from him. The only time he could recall was when he first started working here. The only time before that was in school, when he had forgotten to meet her after getting distracted by his latest girlfriend. He had been unable to track her down for two weeks that time.

"Since when?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm gonna leave early. You should too – how often will this opportunity come along?" He stood, dropping the rubber band ball into his pocket before pulling his coat on and grabbing his cane.

"Yeah. _Some_ of us actually have patients we see. You know, like more than one every two weeks." He rolled his eyes at Wilson and shook his head.

"Says the man who was just wasting time playing ball in my office. Whatever, be the good little Scooby for the boss lady. I'm out of here." He limped toward the door as Wilson stood, following after him.

"What about them?" Wilson waved a hand toward his fellows as they passed by the window.

"What about them? You don't think they're the kinds of people who would cut out of work early just because their boss is AWOL, do you?" He hit the button for the elevator and glanced back over his should at the office. "Better consider this a test of their morals. Let me know if they pass, huh?" Stepping into the elevator, he hit the door close button, smirking as Wilson's face slid out of view. Tapping his cane nervously, he wondered why Lisa would be avoiding him today. He really didn't think anything he had said to her on the phone had upset her- she was used to his particular brand of humor. As the elevator descended quickly, he tried not to allow his conversation with Wilson earlier today echo in the closed space around him. They were fine. She was fine. Maybe she really was just not feeling well._ Then why didn't she call you?_

* * *

She was sitting, cross legged on the floor of her empty guest room when she heard the bike. She smiled slightly – she should have known it would only take him a few hours to realize she was missing. Of course, he would come looking for her. She had spent the time alone relaxing though, and she was sure she could handle him. After a bath, and a snack, she was now sitting with a baby furniture catalog in her lap, staring around the empty white room that would be her baby's nursery in a few short months.

"Lucy, you gots some 'splaining to do!" His voice echoed down the hall loudly and she found herself rolling her eyes and giggling at the same time, as she stared down at the glossy page in front of her, a perfect picture of pristine white furniture with pink and green fabric draped artfully over the side of a crib. In short – nothing like what a real nursery would look like.

"In here." She called over her shoulder, and a moment later her was standing in the doorway , glaring at her while gripping his cane tightly.

"Seriously, you pick the one room with nowhere to sit? You really are avoiding me." His tone was dry, but held a hint of seriousness as he lowered himself slowly to the floor next to her. His back against the wall, he stretched his legs out in front of himself, before finally propping his cane against the wall next to him. "Just so you know, I don't know if I can get back up."

"That makes two of us." She spoke in a bored tone, flipping to the next page, a gleaming example of trains and trucks splayed across a blue background. She skipped that one, moving onward to the next page, all ruffles and lace. He watched her for a moment, frowning at her silence.

"Are you gonna tell me why you left early?" He spoke slowly, and she turned to look at him finally. His usual sarcastic expression was in place, but his eyes looked worried and she felt a stab of guilt for worrying him.

"I was nauseous, and just tired. I didn't have much scheduled this afternoon and I decided to just come home and relax." She lied the best way she knew how – with the truth. Omission really was the best kind of lie, easy to keep track of. "I didn't tell you, because I knew you'd blow off work, which, oh look. You did."

"Are you feeling better now?" His eyes were running up and down her form, as if her skin held the answer to his question. His hand came up, resting lightly against the back of her neck and she shivered slightly. He seemed so warm in the suddenly cool room and she leaned toward him slightly.

"Yeah. I laid down and had a bath. It went away. She's probably making me suffer for all those morning sickness free months. Trust your kid not to follow the normal schedule and bring the nausea three months late. He nodded, his eyes still watching her intently.

"I thought maybe I'd pissed you off." His voice was quiet, as if he was saying the words against his will, having them slowly dragged out from his lips.

"No." She spoke truthfully, easily able to convince him with her sincerity since it was the simple truth. He had not been what sent her running. He smiled and the hand on the back of her neck trailed along her shoulder and down her arm lightly.

"So – didn't I promise you a night of torture. You thought I'd forget, hm? Maybe that's why you left early. To distract me. I never forget a promise."

"Unless you're screwing your girlfriend." She pointed out in a teasing voice and he sighed.

"Lisa, that was twenty years ago-"

"I'm just saying. Sometimes you do forget promises." Her grin was saucy as she leaned toward him.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I? I mean, seriously you have much better ammunition to use against me now and yet still I get beat up over that _one_ time-" She cut him off the only way she knew how, by moving forward and pressing her mouth against his. It was always instantaneous, even now – his hand automatically slid up her back and his fingers always tangled in her hair just as his mouth opened under hers. She still felt the same thrill each time too, that frisson of excitement that slid along her spine to pool directly between her thighs and she melted toward him with a sigh. He pulled back after a moment, and her breathing was ragged , filling the space between them.

"What's the name?" His voice was a whisper as his lips slid along the column of her neck, sending shivers across her skin. She pulled his head up and laughed as she looked into his eyes.

"You're gonna have to work harder than that."


	16. One Emotion

Disclaimer: See First Chapter

A/N: I loved the reviews from the last chapter, seriously. Love you guys all so much. I love that you are all embracing the entrance of Stacy, and are trusting me here. So keep it up! And by the way, so. damn. excited. about the finale tonight. I may be at a bit of a loss for words tomorrow. I'm a bit... unsure about House's inner voice in the first part here, but upon re reading, there's nothing I can fix any more, so hopefully it comes out ok.

* * *

He needed time. Time for what he wasn't sure exactly. To think, to sit in front of his piano and have a drink without feeling guilty. Time to figure out exactly what the hell was going to happen in three months when Lisa gave birth and he had to make a decision. She had told him that night – at her house, in her bed. If he wasn't going to be here 100 - she wasn't going to risk her child. Not on him, and really who could blame her? She loved that baby – so did he, but it wasn't really something he brought up a whole hell of a lot. The phone rang beside him, a combination of angry buzzing and shrill ringing and he glared at it blearily. Couldn't a guy do some soul searching without being bothered? It stilled after a moment, but the silence was brief as it started up again.

"What?!" He snapped after flipping the phone open roughly. He didn't want to be bothered right now.

"House, don't you ever answer your phone?" Wilson's voice was strained and tinny through the bad connection and he glared at the glass full of scotch in front of him.

"Not when I want to be left alone, which oh look! Is right now."

"Did you and Cuddy have a fight?" Wilson's tone switched from exasperated to concerned at light speed and he rolled his eyes heavily. Picking up the glass in a tight fist, he tossed it back in frustration. Of course they hadn't fought. They had been getting along fine. As fine as they could be anyway. But thanks to Wilson and his questions a few weeks ago, he now found himself watching her almost obsessively. Trying to figure her out, like a kid with a rubix cube and he just couldn't slide the pieces in the right way to have it all become clear to him. For some reason he chose not to explore, he didn't want to examine his own feelings on the matter. He would much rather try to puzzle out how she felt about the whole thing. Did she care about him? She must – he didn't think she'd be having a baby with him if she didn't. Or entertaining the thought that he could be around for a lot longer. "Hello?"

"No. I'm just.. thinking."

"Oh." Wilson responded dumbly before the implication sank in. " _Oh!_ Sorry. This will only take a minute."

"You've been harping on me for weeks to figure this out and now that I am, something is more important? What?" He snapped, looking at the empty glass with anger, as if it could somehow send his irritation to Wilson magically.

"You know what? I'll tell you later. It doesn't matter right now. You go.. figure your stuff out. I'll see you tomorrow, or shit, tomorrow is Sunday. Monday. I'll see you then." Wilson hung up abruptly and he stared at the phone with suspicion, wondering for a moment what in the hell was going on with Jimmy. Shrugging, he dropped the phone back onto the gleaming black surface of his piano and allowing his fingers to ghost along the cold ivory keys. He needed to stop wondering what she was feeling and figure out what the hell he wanted first. He thought he had just wanted the relationship they had now, but the longer it went on, the more dissatisfied he felt. It was wrong of him, he knew, but he would watch her whisper to her stomach and stroke her hands along there feeling the sharp jabs and she would smile this brilliant smile. He wanted that directed at him.

Oh she smiled with him, but it was never the same, really. Breathtakingly beautiful and filled with such love you could almost snatch it from the air around her and wrap yourself in it. He laughed, the sound low and harsh as it rode over the light tinkling of the piano keys. He was jealous of his own child. His hands stilled and he frowned. He wanted her to love him. Didn't that mean something? He didn't really sit down and think about love and what it meant all the time. He had loved Stacy – at least he thought so. He had wanted her there, she had driven him crazy. He had trusted her. Even when he shouldn't have. He hadn't exactly grown up with the best example of love. His mother would deny it until the cows came home, but she always exuded a sense of obligation toward his father, instead of a sense of love. Part of him refused to believe she truly loved his father. If she did- she couldn't. He loved his mother too much to believe that. His grandmother on the other hand – she had loved his grandfather, and never really got over his death until she died herself. He remembered her, dressed in black, white hair pulled tight as she whispered to him as a child. _Find it Gregory. Find that one person who is your best friend, your rock, your guidance. Love is not violent or explosive. It is a constant presence._ She had gotten sick the next year, and he had held her hand as she had willingly let go. He hadn't thought of her in years.

_A constant presence. _Stacy sure as hell hadn't qualified for that portion of Grandma's terms. His hands stilled as he stared off, lost in thought. Cuddy had. Even when he hated her, even when he had pushed and pushed, she was there. She had never given up. Not even when he was chasing entire bottles of pills with quarts of scotch and he wanted to die. Even then, she had been there, reaching down and dragging him forcibly back out of the darkness. He leaned forward, resting his head against the cool wood there. "I am a moron."

His eyes were closed and he found himself going over his past. His Grandma, always feeding him. His mother soothing him quietly after episodes with his father. School years. Getting kicked out of Hopkins. Michigan. Lisa. Getting fired for the first time and realizing that he could be as brilliant as he wanted, but it helped no one if he couldn't keep a job. Stacy. Cuddy giving him that chance. His leg. He gripped the wood tightly, his knuckles turning white. His thigh burned as if in response to his thoughts, but it was a welcome pain. Stacy had been unable to handle his vitriol once her decision was made. Had been unable to withstand his anger and pain. Unable to withstand the guilt that came with her decision. He had been in too much pain at the time, both physical and emotional, but now he frowned. He had always thought she was stronger than that. Even when she came back – they had never really discussed it. And then she had proved it wasn't a one time thing when she had refused to tell Mark about them. Again, she wanted to take the easy road first. Mark never needed to know. By the time she had made a decision, he had been past caring.

He wasn't easy to live with. He knew that. In fact some would say he was extremely difficult on a daily basis. He couldn't be with someone who just wasn't strong. It surprised him that he hadn't noticed in the first five years- but he supposed before his leg he had been strong enough for the both of them. Once he faltered- she hadn't been enough to carry him. And now- well now she just wasn't strong enough to handle him. So he had been the one to give up. The one to step back and realize that it would never work. Not anymore. He was less strong than he used to be, and she wasn't as strong as she pretended to be. He let out the breath he had been holding in unconsciously. His Grandma was a smart woman, and she was right about a lot of things. Lisa was still his best friend, and she was stronger than she needed to be. Strong enough to hold him together when he hadn't been able to. He smiled at the dark wood in front of him. He didn't need to be here right now. Someone was expecting him.

* * *

She was standing in front of the fridge when she heard him come through the door. She let out a silent sigh of relief – he had seemed so distant when he had left that morning, but she hadn't tried to stop him. Even she needed alone time now and then. So she had gone shopping, something she enjoyed and he hated, and the results of her expedition were currently upstairs being assembled. She had come down for a drink, and she grabbed a water bottle from the fridge before standing and closing it behind her. When she looked up, he was in the doorway with a crooked smile. "Hey." Her voice was soft, and he walked into the room, surprising her by pulling her toward him and pressing his mouth against hers fiercely. She responded, her arms wrapping around him even as she tasted the scotch on him, the flavor illicit to her as she opened her mouth under his. There was a quiet desperation about him, his lips seeking, his hands tracing her neck. The kiss seemed filled with something she couldn't quite define, but welcomed anyway. When he finally broke away, her breathing was uneven as she moved down off her tip toes. "Okay. Hello to you too." She was smiling, and he was watching her intently.

"Hi. I just- what are you doing?" His attention finally had turned to her clothes. She was dressed in loose pajama pants and one of his older shirts she had stolen long ago. He didn't expect it back, especially not now that she had stretched it all out of proportion.

"Putting furniture together." She grinned, opening the water bottle and walking past him down the hall.

"Lisa, you're six months pregnant – you shouldn't be doing that. Did you paint?" He sniffed as he walked and she laughed slightly at the disapproval in his tone.

"No. I hired students to paint while I was gone today. And I can handle a crib Greg. It's like, four screws and sliding the guard rails in. The dresser came assembled, and the delivery guys did the rest." She stopped in front of the open door and he stopped behind her. The room was painted a soft apple green, and she had a stack of framed prints in soft pinks that were waiting to be hung tomorrow, once the paint was completely dry. The furniture was a pale wood, it's golden color matching the wooden floors. The crib that she had just finished assembling stood against the far wall by the window, and a mattress sat wrapped in plastic ready to go in it. "What do you think? It's insane right? I don't know – I went out today to get furniture and I ended up buying a ton of stuff. I just- it made it _real,_ you know?"

"No, I don't know, but then I'm not a large hormonally crazed woman." His voice was dry as he stepped into the room with a smile. "I like the color." He spoke simply, before moving over to the mattress and removing the plastic before picking it up and placing it gently in the crib. She didn't protest, knowing he would just be annoyed if she did, so instead she pulled the bedding out of the laundry basket by the door, and proceeded to make the bed. It was a pink and green gingham print – and where she had pulled the wall color from. He stood by, watching as she lowered the side rail to better reach the mattress. "So I was thinking."

"About?" She asked with a smile as he fidgeted with his cane. She was tying the bumper pad on now, before pulling the comforter from the basket, and smoothing it across the fitted sheet gently.

"I called a moving company today. Before I came here. And they'd – you know – they're willing to go into my place this week and pack stuff up. Most of my stuff I could care less about and can go into storage. I never liked that couch anyway, but we should totally keep my tv, it's bigger." As he spoke she lifted the basket into the crib and started folding the rest of the laundry in there. Sleepers and diaper shirts and receiving blankets. Her hands stilled though as the implication of what he was saying sank in. He was poking through the basket as he spoke, and didn't notice her shock. "We just need to make room for my piano. Here's my idea – which you'll probably hate. How many dinner parties do you actually throw? Because we could totally get a smaller table for in the kitchen and use the dining room. Or- maybe the other spare bedroom, you did say this place has three right?" He pulled a tiny pink shirt out that read Been Inside For Nine Months and chuckled. "Where did you get this?"

"You want to move in?" She ignored his question, still not quite believing what he was asking.

"Well, d'uh. Mommy, Daddy, baby. All under one roof is the usual way it's done – well it used to be at least, and I'm old." She moved closer to him, hugging him tightly. He dropped the soft pink sleeper he had been inspecting and returned the embrace.

"Are you sure?" She spoke softly, leaning back. She knew him – and she knew that he would never just come out and say he was committing to her, to them. As much as he liked to talk when it came to the important things the last thing Greg House did was speak. So this was his way of doing it without actually having to talk about it. His eyes met hers, serious and steady.

"I'm positive." The words were simple, but so much more complex than they appeared. She smiled, and she could feel it hurting her cheeks it was so wide. Leaning up on tip toe she placed a soft kiss on his mouth before lowering again.

"Both. We can get a smaller table and have the piano in the dining room, and you can turn the third bedroom into an office, or a game room. Whatever. A space for you. Gives me a valid reason to send my mother to a hotel."

He grinned in response briefly, before selecting another shirt from the pile. A tiny black one with a baby bottle and the phrase I Like to Hit the Bottle below it. "Seriously, were you channeling me with these things?"

* * *

_Almost done. _She glared at the paperwork in front of her, before scanning it quickly and scrawling her signature across the bottom of the page and closing the file. Pulling another toward her she sighed. The movers were supposed to start moving things that day, and although she was uncomfortable with allowing them access to the house when they weren't there, Greg had insisted that it was a good company. He knew the guy who owned it – and she just agreed while praying silently that Greg knew the guy from school, and not the track.

"We need to talk." Wilson burst in and she glanced up with a smile. He was getting positively House like with the dramatic entrances.

"It must be important since you chose to forgo knocking." She teased gently as he just stared at her with his face lined with worry. "What Wilson? It's not Greg is it?" She felt a cold dread fill her chest. Wilson seldom looked this agitated, off hand she could only think of two times. When Greg had been shot and he came to tell her and when he had OD'd and again Wilson sent her because he couldn't deal with it. Panic gripped her tightly and she half stood. Her expression must have tipped Wilson off though because he rushed forward, apology written across his face and holding his hands out placatingly.

"God no! I'm sorry – I-"

"Shit Wilson! I am six months pregnant, don't _do_ that to me!" She sank back down, relief singing through her veins as she glared at him.

"I wasn't thinking. Are you alright?"

"No thanks to you!" She snapped and he flushed with guilt. She stared at him for a moment before her irritation rose. "Well? You had something to say?"

"Oh! Yes – well it all seems a bit anti climatic now-" He faltered at the glare she was leveling at him before clearing his throat and continuing. "I ran into Stacy this weekend. She's living here now. With a job. And no husband." he spoke the words carefully and she sagged in relief.

"God Wilson – I _know_ that. Well I knew it was possible anyway. She called asking for her old job- I refused. Did you tell Greg?" She spoke carefully, projecting a purposely careless tone. She held her breath, releasing it only when he shook his head.

"I tried- I called him, but he was.. busy. With _other_ things." She frowned at his tone, but shrugged it off and nodded.

"Did you want me to talk to him?"

"Did you tell him about the job?" He questioned her in return and she shook her head slightly.

"He's moving in." She blurted out instead, and a smile crossed Wilson's face as he nodded.

"That's- that is great Cuddy. You know what – you tell him. But you may want to do it soon. Stacy is- well _Stacy_. And I don't think she knows about you..." He trailed off momentarily and she shook her head no. "Well I didn't say anything, she just asked me how he was, and I told her he was doing really well. She didn't seem to believe me though." He stood and she nodded in understanding. "And really, congratulations on the whole moving in thing. I'm happy. For the both of you." His voice was soft and he left the room with a soft click, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She sighed softly, knowing that she should get up and go see him now. He didn't have a patient, so he wouldn't be busy. In fact she was fairly certain she had seen him sneak into one of the clinic exam rooms a while ago, but she had been too preoccupied to do anything about it.

"Just do it Lisa. Quickly." She muttered to herself and the baby rolled, showing her agreement with a series of small kicks. Standing, she squared her shoulders before heading out into the clinic area with reluctance.


	17. Lover's Rock

Disclaimer: See First Chapter

A/N: Well, I didn't expect this to be the end, but it kind of did that to me by surprise. I'll have one more chapter, an epilogue of sorts and that's it. Good news since I totally have another bunny roaming around right now and they get angry when I ignore them. There won't be a sequel, but I do have a one shot rattling around that could be considered a addendum of sorts. And by the way, you guys totally surpassed my highest review amount, which made me very very happy this morning! But don't feel the need to stop. Seriously. Keep reviewing.

* * *

He was in Exam Three. Brenda had seen her coming and nodded in that direction, and when she entered the room he was sitting on the exam table with a medical journal in hand. The door had opened silently under her hand – doors in her hospital didn't creak, she hated that – and he didn't see her enter, engrossed in his reading. "I suppose this is the part where I'm thankful you're at least doing something medically relevant instead of seeing patients?"

He flinched slightly, turning around to look at her with wide eyes and she sighed inwardly, recognizing his attempt at innocence. Why he even bothered anymore, she didn't know, but never the less, she glared at him and crossed her arms. It didn't have quite the same impact now that she could rest them on the top of her stomach, but she was fairly certain the level of her glare hadn't altered any. "Yes. In fact – thankful enough to turn around and let me finish my clinic hours in peace." She stood silently, just watching and making no response. She knew it was the one thing that drove him crazy, so she used it as often as she could. Each time it worked, and he grew tired of the expectant silence, but he never seemed to recognize it as his weakness in arguments. "Oh fine, I'll go see a patient. Stop giving me the long suffering heavily pregnant glare. Did Wilson tell on me? I am so making him buy me lunch today – and this time I'm not saving him money by hiding the steak."

She wanted to laugh at him and smack him repeatedly. Her arms dropped, along with any amount of self righteous indignation she had left as she remembered why she was there. Right. This wasn't about him skipping clinic duty. This was about her. And Stacy. _Crap._ "I didn't come here about clinic duty. You can leave when we're done and I'll finish up here."

"What did you do? Because you never ever offer to cover clinic. Not for me. Did you kill one of the kids?" He had turned so that his legs hung off the side of the table and she walked closer to him, reaching a hand out and brushing it against his leg reassuringly. She was pretty sure she was reassuring herself more than him, though.

"I lied." Her voice was low and she stared at his right knee as she spoke. It helped remind her of their connection in a twisted kind of way, staring at the space where muscle used to be. One more hurt. One more thing she had allowed to define them.

"About what- Lisa.." His voice was equally low and his hands pulled at her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. "What's going on?"

"Stacy called me three weeks ago. She wanted her job back." The room was silent for a moment, the air thick with tension as she met his eyes. There was no censure there, no far off look as he traveled through memories she would rather erase. Just him watching her with a slight confusion.

"And you said no right? Did you think I'd be mad about that? You gave her job to that other guy – what's his name. It's not like she can stroll back in two years later and expect everything back." She laughed slightly at the double meaning underlying his words, and wondering if there were really true. Her heart thudded along under her ribs, slow and painful and she was sure his fingers could feel the heaviness of it in her pulse from where the rested on her neck.

"I said no." She confirmed softly, licking her suddenly dry lips. "But I should have told you. That she- She was thinking of moving back here. That she called- the reason she wanted the job back." Her voice was a dry whisper on the last words, and she could feel the baby rolling around, a comforting presence. She felt dry and hollow as she watched his confusion grow, as if a stiff breeze would crumble her and blow her away. The baby was the only solid thing about her.

"Lisa – come on – just tell me. It can't be that bad."

"Mark left her. And she's here now. Wilson saw her this weekend. I lied to you about it." She kept repeating the fact to herself, and to him. She had lied. He sat in silence for a moment his fingers still resting against her pulse, which was still pounding beneath his skin. Her eyes ached in the harsh light and she felt dizzy as his silence stretched out longer and longer. She felt his lips grave her forehead and she felt a sudden urge to breath real air, not recirculated filtered hospital air. "I need- I need to go." She didn't look up at him as she spoke, didn't glance back once for fear of what she would see there. Instead, she pulled away from him, feeling an almost physical pain at the loss of contact with his skin as she blindly fumbled at the door before finally exiting the room and plowing through the crowd there. She studied her options quickly as she scanned the lobby. Her office was out. She couldn't leave the hospital, she had rounds later. There was only one solution. She took the stairs, because it would be more painful and more difficult, and the one place he couldn't follow.

* * *

He let her go, some long dead previously unknown male instinct telling him that if he followed right away, bad things would happen. So he let her get ahead of him, let her escape momentarily. He sat silently for a moment, before gripping his cane in hand and easing off the table to limp into the clinic. Brenda was glaring at him from her position behind the counter and he glared back, glad to release the tension onto someone. He was rifling through patient files when Wilson's voice hissed in his ear.

"Well I can see by that exit that she told you. I cannot believe you House! How could you be pissed at her about this – was she so wrong?" He turned toward the sound, dropping the files he was currently holding before gripping Wilson's arm tightly and dragging him back to Exam Three.

"Firstly, don't do that in the middle of clinic where any nurse can over hear you. She hates gossip, you know that. Secondly, shut up." Wilson stood staring at him with an open mouth and he took advantage of his friends silence. "You don't know what happened, and for the record I am in now way pissed at her about this. She lied. Big deal. If the situation were reversed, I would have done the same thing, only I probably would have called every lawyer in the area and told them a massively outlandish lie about Stacy just to insure she didn't get a job here."

"So- you're not mad?" Wilson stood with his hands on his hips and a confused expression as all of the irritation drained out of his stance, deflating him.

"Nope."

"Well then- why is she off somewhere upset?" The thought made Wilson stand up again, the irritation easing back in.

"Because she didn't wait to see if I was mad, just assumed I was. Which sort of begs the question does she really know me at all? How many times have I lied to her? Repeatedly. About insane things? Cancer- I mean, I'm pretty sure the cancer lie will trump any lie she'll ever tell me for the rest of our lives. She should have thought of that. Must be the hormones." He leaned back against the exam table and shrugged.

"Are you insane? Go find her!" Wilson went so far as to grab his arm and lead him out of the room and the clinic before he dug his heels in, turning to glare at his friend.

"Hormones. If I go find her now, she'll beat the crap out of me. And while normally that would be fun-" He smirked at the uncomfortable expression that was crossing Wilson'

s face. "She needs to calm down. I'm letting her do that."

"So you really don't care? That Mark left Stacy and that she's back? Because you know it's just a matter of time before- _Stacy!_" The expression of Wilson's face as he stared past him was anything but welcoming and he sighed as he glared at Wilson.

"You so better just be getting back at me for-"

"Greg." Her voice was warm, which was ironic, all things considered. He would have preferred bitter, or cold, or frigid. Angry or smug or anything but warm because hearing her say his name like that felt suddenly so wrong. He turned with a sigh, and saw her standing there in a black business suit, with a smile pasted on her face tightly. His expression revealed nothing, and Wilson's eyes darted from him to Stacy rapidly.

"Stacy. How nice to see you again – only not really. How's the husband? Still a cripple? I know how you like them that way." His vitriol was on auto pilot really, he was barely paying attention to what he said because his mind was too busy analyzing his reaction to her and the situation. It was like the perfect test for his recent conclusions. If he never loved Stacy, seeing her, touching her wouldn't affect him at all. If he felt the way he thought about Lisa – he found himself studying her closely. He still found her mildly attractive, it would be insane to suppose he wouldn't. He was, despite all evidence to the contrary, human. He found himself studying her eyes in particular, wondering how he had been able to deal with all the repressed pain in their depths, which was clearly rising to the surface now.

"Honestly Greg." Her reproof was weak, and he gripped his cane tighter sending a quick prayer of thanks up as he felt no guilt over it at all. "Mark is fine, I suppose. I'm sure you've heard by now that he's left me which makes the whole question a bit cruel."

"I always liked him you know. Leaving you before you left him. Good way to go. But jealous I didn't think of that. Well the first time anyway." She watched helplessly, her face a mixture of hurt and shock which was surprising, really. When she reached out a hand and it brushed against his oown, he drew back quickly, stepping out of range and almost into Wilson who was still hovering like any good friend would. He didn't like her touch – her hands felt arm and dry and he found himself missing cool soft brushes of skin instead. He almost closed his eyes in relief and his grip was so tight now his knuckles were turning white.

"Greg- I didn't come here to do this. I wanted to apologize. For leaving – both times, really. And I wanted to see how you were." Her voice was purposefully low and soft, as if she expected at any moment to be told that he was a walking time bomb really, and had never quite gotten past her. He smiled unexpectedly, grinning down at her as she blinked in his sudden change of demeanor.

"I'm great. Really. Actually, do you know, I don't think I've ever been better. Wouldn't you say Wilson?" He turned to his right slightly to see Wilson nodding emphatically in agreement.

Stacy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Really if I knew you were going to play these games I wouldn't have come-"

"I'm about to be a father." He announced abruptly, to avoid her continuing and him having to shake her from frustration. She never truly saw that everything wasn't about her, somehow. Her voice died off at his announcement and she stood there, the expression of shock on her face almost perfect. He almost wished he could take a picture, since he was fairly certain Lisa would love to see it much, much, _much_ later, after she calmed down. _There's always security tapes. _

"You're.. joking." She stared at Wilson who shook his head, more subdued this time and much more serious.

"Nope. Baby girl. Just about three months to go, I think. I wouldn't really expect any child of mine to actually be on time though, so who knows?"

"I'm sorry." her voice was sympathetic now, and he glared at her change of tactic. He raised an inquisitive brow, not trusting his voice at the moment. "Well it must have been an accident- you never wanted a baby Greg." He felt a surge of anger at her words and their implications. First she was probably assuming he had knocked up some low life woman whom he was stuck with now. Second that she assumed to know anything about his wishes for parenthood, even if it was true when she knew him.

"Maybe I just didn't want a baby with _you_, Stacy." His voice was low and silky and Wilson backed up slightly, recognizing the danger signals. "My daughter was planned, actually, but thanks for assuming I screwed up with some bar fly. Her mother and I are in a relationship, and I'm actually happy. You may not recognize it, since you saw it so rarely."

"Who-"

"Does it matter?" He cut her off ruthlessly, surprised when she nodded slowly.

"Yes. I thought- when I came here- I thought you and I... don't you miss it Greg? Us?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and he wasn't even sure if Wilson could hear her, but he did and he did feel a slight amount of guilt about what he was about to do. He may not have loved her, but he had cared about her and she was a significant part of his past. She would never be his future though, and it was kinder to let her know that now.

"No." His tone was gentler and she looked up in surprise. "Stacy... you can't go back. I wouldn't want to if I could. We were never strong enough when it counted. Or there when it counted."

"Do you love her?" The whisper was barely there but again, he heard what others couldn't.

"It's more than just one emotion Stacy. She's my best friend, my – my rock. It could never be just one word. One definition." His hand ached to reach in his pocket and take a pill to ease the tension radiating along his body. She nodded and stepped back with an awkward smile.

"Well, now that I've embarrassed myself fully, I think I'll go." Her dry wit was back and he relaxed marginally to see it there. "Tell Lisa I said congratulations." He let her walk away with the last word, it was really the least he could do for her, allow her that dignity. His hand relaxed loosening his grip on the wooden handle of his cane and he sighed, reaching into his pocket and opening his pill case before dry swallowing one.

"So.. now you're going to tell Cuddy all of that right?" Wilson's voice was directly beside him and he glanced over in exasperation.

"Well d'uh!" Wilson didn't say anything else, merely shaking his head and stepping out of his way with an arm flourish. He limped past him toward the elevators, grinning at Wilson as the doors slid shut. Pressing the highest button, he smiled slightly as the car lurched upward and he thought about what he could say to her.

* * *

It was raining, which was really perfect for her mood. Well, not so much raining as drizzling. Just enough to create a spider's web of dew across the surface of everything and the humidity to make her hair frizz up in ways that she would be cursing about for hours, but the air was fresh and welcome as she stood looking down at the street below. She had been alone for almost an hour when she heard the door open behind her finally. An hour of convincing herself that he would hate her, change his mind, move out. An hour of asking herself if he was mad, why the hell was she up here hiding when she should be down there fighting him every step of the way until he saw that it was a mistake? So when he stood beside her suddenly, she felt a rush of adrenaline, a fight or flight response and this time, she chose to fight.

"Let me go first." She turned to him, suddenly breathless in the heavily misted air that enveloped them and made the rest of the world seem to disappear. "You're not allowed to be mad. I don't care that you loved her, and if you think you're allowed to leave you're insane. I'm not letting you leave." Her voice was low and fierce, rising steadily as she spoke quickly to get all the words past her lips. "I panicked. I did something stupid. But I was scared- scared of your feelings for her and that's childish and stupid I know – but there it is. I'm not going to stand here and tell you I'll never lie again. I will. Almost constantly. So will you. It's what we do. I'm not going to apologize for doing it in the first place because I'm_ not _sorry. What I am going to tell you is that I want more. I want more than convenience, more than duty, more than obligation. And if you don't want to be here... I- _we_ deserve more than that. If you can't do that.." Her hands clutched protectively around her mid section as she spoke, her voice rising and falling sharply like jagged waves. He stood, letting her talk until she ran out of steam, listening intently until she couldn't keep it up anymore. When she stopped he smiled at her, hooking his cane on the edge of the roof and pulling her toward him. His hair was damp from the mist and she could feel her own hair dripping slightly, a bead of cold water running down her neck.

"I'm not mad. I don't care that you lied – Lisa, I'm never going to be that guy. The one who says he loves you every night before falling asleep or tells you every single day what you mean to me." Her breath hitched in her chest, lodging painfully at his words and she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes as she attempted to push him away. He was strong though, much stronger than she was and his grip tightened on her arms, pulling her so close that her belly pressed against his waist and he could wrap his arms around her to prevent her from moving. "Let me finish. I love you's are trite and stupid and something people parade out to reassure another person. Nobody puts any thought into it, it's just something to say because you know the other person wants to hear it. I'm not going to do that." He paused for a breath, loosening his hold on her experimentally, tensing as if she would bolt at any moment. She simply stood in the same spot though, burrowed into his chest and absorbing warmth from him. Inhaling his scent deeply and waiting quietly for him to finish. He had done it for her and she could return the favor. Her pulled her chin up so her eyes met his and the intensity in his made it hard for her to breath.

"I'm only going to say this once, maybe twice so pay attention. I know that I never want to wake up next to anyone else. For twenty years I fought this, fought you, but deep inside, I knew. Knew we were meant to be together, knew that you were the one thing keeping me centred. You were always there, in the back of mind mind. Like I never left you. Because you never left me. I know that I am going to love this little girl more than I ever thought possible. And most of all I know that when I try to compare how I felt for Stacy to how I've always felt about you, it's like comparing summer rain to a hurricane. You are what I need, your strength, your patience, your love. I'm never going to say it every day Lisa, but deep inside I know. And you know too." His eyes never left hers and she felt the tension ease out of her body as she watched him speak, Her heart seemed to stop beating for a second or two before it kick started back up again. She nodded in the damp, her hair sticking to her face as she kept nodding.

"I know." Her voice was a whisper but he heard her clearly and she smiled in relief as he pulled her closer. Her hands reached up to stroke his face gently, her skin cold against his before they moved up to run through his hair. "I know." She whispered one more time before his mouth descended on hers and she opened her own beneath his, letting his warmth invade her cool. His breath was hot against hers and she felt her heart beat rise as his arms wrapped around her, just managing to make it all the way around to the small of her back, pressing there tightly so that she moulded into him. Between them the baby kicked and they both smiled at the feeling as the mist grew into a steady rain that fell down on both of them.


	18. Play to Win

A/N: Short I know, but I prefer to call it poignant.

* * *

She had been early, instead of on time. Cuddy had been beyond pissed, she had scheduled a c-section and then gone into labour five days before the scheduled date. She had screamed about it on the way to the hospital, and continued to yell about it once arriving. At least at that point she was yelling at the OB and not him. Once the anaesthesiologist arrived two long hours later, she had stopped yelling and started worrying. They weren't ready. She wasn't ready. He hadn't known it would be this difficult. He had figured she would scream at him, and he would let her until there was a baby there to distract her. He didn't know that suddenly he would have to become the calm one. The sure one. A role he wasn't used to, but she had latched onto his words when he spoke to her, low and in her ear as she gripped his hand tightly. "_You can do this. I know."_ She had nodded, not speaking but her hand had tightened almost painfully. 

Later, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone quite how it felt. The knowledge that your heart was sure to beat out of your chest as they laid a tiny baby in his arms and she had watched with tears in her eyes. He thought he didn't like kids, and really he still didn't but she was different. She was perfect. Wide blue eyes staring up at him intensely from an extremely pissed off face as she sucked on her fingers contently. She had frowned up at him and he had almost laughed out loud because in that moment she looked so like her mother it was comical. He hadn't laughed though, merely leaned down as best he could so Lisa could see her, and watched as her eyes filled with tears and she reached out a finger to brush against the baby's cheek. She had sobbed, trying to explain that she wasn't upset, but he had told her to stop talking, he knew.

Now he stood, staring down at his sleeping daughter as Lisa slept in the bed a few feet away. She was cleaned up now, fed and content to simply stare up at him thoughtfully as if searching for an answer in his face. Lisa had fallen asleep a while ago, and he let her sleep, knowing she needed it and content to have this moment. When the door whispered open after a small knock and Wilson crept in,followed by his team, he could only stand there with a stupid smile on his face that he was sure he'd never live down, but he was past caring. They all inspected the baby dutifully, but Cameron was the one who reached a hand out, with a whispered "She's beautiful." He nodded, because of course she was. After a moment they all left, leaving him and Wilson and a sleeping Lisa in peace.

"So what's the name?" Wilson's voice was quiet and he looked up from his daughter's gaze.

"Abigail Cuddy House. I like it. She wouldn't tell me before hand though." He laughed dryly and Abigail startled at the sound, raising a hand to her face and blinking for a moment before settling back down and closing her eyes.

"It's Hebrew." Wilson spoke softly, his voice sure and knowing but warm.

"Do you know what it means?"

"Father's joy." Her voice answered instead of Wilson's and he glanced across in surprise. Rising he walked over to the side of the bed, carefully depositing the now sleeping baby in her arms and watching as she stared at her in wonder, an expression he was sure he was sporting as well.

"It's perfect." He whispered next to her ear, not noticing as Wilson left the room silently sliding the glass door shut behind him. She looked up at him with a smile and oddly serious eyes.

"I know." He kissed her softly, sweet and lingering for a moment before the baby squirmed between them and they broke away with a smile. Outside the rain fell steadily, a soothing pattern against the window.


End file.
